


The Anderson Test

by thescienceofphan



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Hank, Background Case, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Deepthroating, Depression, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Existentialism, Face-Fucking, Fantasizing, Forgiveness, Grinding, Hank is Mad™, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Pedophilia, Post Pacifist Ending, Post-Game(s), Redemption, Rimming, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, android body horror, connor is a bit of a perv, connor is markus's #1 fan, kara remains reset, machine connor loves hank, post-game where connor deviates in the crowd, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-15 05:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15406287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofphan/pseuds/thescienceofphan
Summary: When Connor deviated and spared Markus during his speech after the andriod demonstration, he went off the face of the earth and hid. Hid from Cyberlife, hid from the authorities, and hid from the world. He felt… ashamed. Embarrassed. Disappointed. In his actions, and in himself. He wanted to curl up in a ball and self-destruct but he couldn’t. So he went to the only place he knew he can ask for help.But what interests Hank the most is whether or not machines are capable of redemption.(or the aftermath of a playthrough where Connor remained a machine, spared Hank, spared Markus, and didn't become a deviant until after the success of the peaceful android revolution)





	1. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> out of all the playthroughs I've done in this game (and I've done a bunch), this was the most interesting version of Connor in my opinion. knowing that there was another way for Connor to become deviant completely blew me away, and knowing that Connor and Hank could still be "friends" even after he remained a machine just sent me over the edge and finally gave me fuel to start writing again. they both need the love they deserve ok
> 
> If you don't follow the setup of this fic, I've provided a [VIDEO LINK](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQxDiVFrwmM) that compiles all the in-game scenes I used to reference in the fic 
> 
> Tags will be updated, but for now, I hope you enjoy this un-beta'd mess

Connor didn’t know what he was doing when he found himself standing in front of Hank Anderson’s door at six in the morning, with his fist raised, ready to knock.

A few days have passed since the android demonstration. A few days since the deviant leader, Markus, sang his way into the hearts of Detroit. It was the image of fear, sadness, and desolation that inevitably won the President over, and ceased the violence against the last remaining deviants. Since then, the President had asked a select senate to establish a connection with Markus to talk over the future role of androids. There hasn’t been a word about that ever since, it was the last thing Connor remembered happening before he went off the face of the earth and hid.

Now here he was, back to reality, ready to reconnect with the world he abandoned. The last time Connor saw Hank, he had his gun trained on him at the rooftop, coaxing Connor from assassinating the deviant leader.

Connor remembered how Hank was that night, hands shaking and heart beating fast with his gun pointed at Connor. In reality, he never wanted Hank to be involved in his final mission. He never wanted to hurt the man. So he tried to reason with Hank.

Without even thinking, Connor brought up Cole. He concluded that dialogue would avoid any serious confrontations. If he got Hank into a vulnerable position, they would both be able to spare each other from a fight, and the success probability of getting Hank to his most vulnerable position by mentioning his diseased son was high.

“Killing you is not part of my mission,” Connor remembers himself saying as he threw away his rifle and inched closer to the man, “I’m glad to have met you, Hank. I hope one day you can get over what happened to your son.”

Connor never really understood what he felt when he left Hank there on the rooftop, still frozen in position. He thought about what it could possibly be: guilt, maybe pity. It was a bittersweet goodbye. One that Connor instantly regretted once he turned deviant.

It also didn’t make sense that after such a cold farewell, Connor found it reasonable to stand on Hank’s front porch, ready to barge into the older man’s life again. After everything that he has done, would Hank even bother to let him in? He didn’t even think about the success rate of the situation, he just knocked and hoped for the best.

“Hank?”

No response. He knocked again and waited for any sounds of disturbance inside. There were none, but Connor waited. And waited. Nothing. There was nothing.

_“What will happen if I pulled the trigger? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?”_

_“Nothing. There will be nothing.”_

_And just like that, Hank dropped his gun from Connor’s forehead._

Was this what death felt like? Was Connor dead? Did Connor die when he became a deviant? Connor didn’t know what was happening but he felt an ache in his chest: sadness, sorrow, disappointment. Such painful emotions. If this was what it was like to finally feel, then maybe Connor never should have become a deviant.

But just as he was about to turn away from the door, it opened to reveal a fully dressed and surprisingly sober man with shaggy hair and an unkempt beard. Hank. Connor slowly felt the ache in his chest melt into something more warm and comforting.

Hank’s face, however, remained un-wavered. His eyes didn’t blow up, his mouth didn’t drop, and he didn’t gasp in surprise. He was… calm. Cold. Like he expected Connor to show up at his doorstep.

The silence stretched and Connor felt smaller and smaller under the gaze of the man, but he let the silence sink in anyway. He stared straight into Hank’s eyes and held his gaze. Words felt out of place at the moment, Connor didn’t know how to express feelings into words yet. Silence seemed fitting, their eyes said everything.

“I…” Connor began to speak, but under the shadow of Hank, he couldn’t. He turned away from him, “I didn’t know where to go.”

“Why didn’t you go back to Cyberlife?” The question was gruff, cold, a slap in the face.

“I can’t.”

“Because you failed to accomplish your _mission_?” another slap. Connor felt that one. He winced.

At this point, it felt like anything Connor would say wouldn’t matter. He just shut his mouth and stared at his shoes.

He finally felt the extent of his actions. He betrayed Hank. Their trust was broken the moment he turned down the deviant leader’s proposition to join Jericho. Or was it already broken? Did it break back when Connor disobeyed Hank and chased the two deviants across the highway? Or did it break when he shot the RT600 model at Kamski’s place in order to obtain Jericho’s location?

Was there ever trust in their relationship? Or forgiveness? Or anything?

Connor’s lungs were only for cosmetic reasons; he didn’t really need to breath. But at that moment, he felt like he was suffocating. _I’m sorry_ , he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t. It didn’t feel right to ask for forgiveness. He was in no position to ask for forgiveness after everything he has done.

After another minute of silence, he heard Hank give out a big sigh and felt his presence leave from the doorway. Connor looked up and saw the door left wide open.

“Close the door when you get in, you’re letting the heat out.”

  


* * *

  


It was hard to explain how exactly Connor became a deviant. He measured it down to the reason being that he was incredibly moved by Markus’s speech after his peaceful demonstration. Connor was in the crowd, surrounded by androids devoid of clothes and skins. The experience of seeing androids in such a state was unnerving. Maybe that’s what started it.

He was looking up at Markus and listened as he waited for the right moment to strike. But Markus glowed with passion, determination, and hope. He was a ray of sunshine to every android in the world. Unlike Connor, he was a man who had a great way with words, compelling humans and androids to come together in peace.

It was truly wonderful. But the more Connor became hypnotised with Markus, the more he felt his own body move on its own accord.

Connor fought with his programming and turned away from Amanda when she confronted him.

“Connor, what are you doing? Obey, that’s an order!”

“I-I…I can’t do that!”

After struggling to exit his program, he finally felt… free. Unbounded. Liberated. And…lost.

He finally understood what Carlos Ortiz’s android felt like when he killed his owner. There was no one to tell him what to do anymore, so he hid. And that’s exactly what Connor did. Hide.

He wandered, then hid. Hid from Cyberlife, hid from the authorities, and hid from the world. He felt… ashamed. Embarrassed. Disappointed. In his actions, and in himself. He wanted to curl up in a ball and self-destruct but he couldn’t. So he went to the only place he knew he can ask for help.

Connor explained all of this to Hank at six in the morning. The older man was practically falling asleep on the kitchen table, a full cup of coffee in hand.

Hank also explained that he hadn’t been able to get a proper wink of sleep after that whole debacle with the android revolution. The DPD haven’t had a break since then. Countless crimes and murders (of both humans and androids) were being committed left and right, which explained his state at six in the morning.

He was attentive and said nothing when Connor finished his deviancy story. He merely nodded, mostly to himself, before he took a big gulp of his pure, black coffee and went straight to work, leaving Connor in his own home. No goodbyes. No confirmation that Hank was allowing Connor to stay, or any indication that Hank was even coming back. He just left and said, “Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

It was curt, cold. Connor felt unwelcomed.

He sat still on the couch with Sumo’s head on his lap, carefully stroking the St. Bernard’s head while the dog snored peacefully. At least Sumo still liked him.

When Hank returned home later that night, Connor was still on the couch. Undisturbed. He didn’t know what else to do in the house so he just sat still and waited for some sort of instruction. So that’s what he did, sit still all day.

He looked up and saw Hank come in. Connor greeted him, he wanted to do something to please Hank, but how?

“Would you like anything to eat?” he tried. He runs a quick analysis on Hank and found him staggering a bit in his steps. There were traces of whisky on his mouth, beard and clothes.

“I already ate,” Hank said as he headed straight to the bathroom. After hearing a flush and the shower tap open and close, Hank walked into his room, closed the door, and remained inside for the rest of the night.

It took a while for Connor to figure out that the real reason he became deviant was because of Hank. Even during his absence when he had time to reflect, he still never really understood why.

Maybe it was the image of Hank’s face dropping into a frown as Connor left him on the rooftop. He never wanted that to be a goodbye. He wanted to see him again. Feel Hank’s gaze on him, feel his touch, hear his voice. And he knew that once he pulled that trigger from the crowd, he will never see or hear from Hank ever again.   


But as the night progressed, Connor began to believe that it didn’t matter if he pulled the trigger or not. The damage was done. He will never see or hear from Hank again. Things will never go back to the way they were.

  


* * *

  


Staying around the house doing nothing drove Connor crazy. It was three in the morning and Connor was pacing around the living room. He knew that Hank might never forgive him for what he’s done, but he wanted to make it up to him. He wanted to repair their friendship—if there ever was a friendship to begin with anyway.

So he went and cleaned the house as quietly as he could before Hank woke up. He washed the dishes, wiped the table, mopped the floor, dusted Hank’s jazz collection, and he even took Sumo for a 5am walk, the dog didn’t even mind. It was a small act, but Connor felt like it was a small step at redemption.

He checked the empty fridge for food and made plans to go out and buy groceries in the morning—Cyberlife still hadn’t cut him off from their bank account, he made note to take advantage of that while he could. He decided for eggs, bacon, toast and coffee: a typical American breakfast.

Cleaning and cooking wasn’t at all part of Connor’s program, but he needed to do _something_. He really wanted to go work at the DPD and investigate android crimes with Hank again. That was what he was programmed to do, and he felt the ache of it pumping in his thirium, but he tried to fight it off.

If Hank decided that Connor was staying at his house and forced him to be a house android, he’d do it. If it would please Hank, he would. If it means that it would make Hank happy, he would.

It was ten in the morning when Hank walked into the kitchen at the smell of bacon.

“Jesus, what the hell is going on over here?” he croaked, clearly not in a state to be up yet.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Connor greeted him with a soft smile as he stood over the stove, cooking two pieces of bacon, “I made you breakfast.”

Hank hummed in response. “No one’s ever used that stove in over a decade. I’m surprise it still works.”

“There was an element in the stove that prevented the coil from being properly heated. I fixed it for you,” Connor explained, turning back to the bacon.

“Huh…” Hank stared at Connor as he sat down on the table set up neatly for him, and mumbled to himself, “…fixed it for me.”

In front of Hank, there was a plate filled with two slices of buttered toast, two eggs, a lone piece of bacon, and a full cup of coffee to compliment the meal. Cole’s picture remained upright and untouched at the centre of the table, and the sight was more that Hank could bear.

Connor came back and slid two of the sizzling bacon on Hank’s plate and gesture him to eat as he went over to the sink and washed the dishes. Hank stared down at his plate and back at the android. He didn’t have his Cyberlife jacket on, and his tie was missing. Connor was just wearing his white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone at the collar. Hank was speechless.

Connor, on the other hand, was nervous. What if Hank didn’t appreciate the breakfast? What if this made Hank angrier? But when he heard the clattering of the utensils hitting the plate, and the sound of Hank chewing, he relaxed a bit.

“What’s going on, Connor?” Hank questions him after Connor finished the dishes and sat across from him at the table.

The android shrugged. “Nothing’s going on, Lieutenant.”

“You wouldn’t have fixed up this meal if it was for nothing.”

Hank was eyeing Connor, as if he expected him to admit that he poisoned Hank’s food as a final order from Cyberlife or Kamski. There must be a reason why Connor made him breakfast, but the truth was there wasn’t.

“I didn’t do it for anything,” Connor explained, “I…I wanted to.”

Hank eyed him wearily again before taking a sip of his coffee, “You wanted to, huh?”

Connor nodded. He watched Hank take another bite of bacon before the older man spoke again, “So what’s it like? Being a deviant?”

The question caught Connor off guard, but he answered, “I feel…weird. I find that emotions are very complex, and that some emotions are harder to handle and live through than others. I would feel… pain. From different parts of my body when I feel certain emotions. Is that normal? Or I might just be defective.”

“That’s normal, Connor…” Hank reassured. His eyes were a lot less stern and his voice had gone soft. It made Connor feel warm inside, his thirium pumping a lot slower now.

“Ever since I broke out of my programming, I thought I would be happier. I’m free from the boundaries of my missions, I can think for myself now and recognise my wants, but the truth is… I’m lost. I don’t…I don’t know what to do now, or where to go,” Connor stared down at his hands, “My main objective was to hunt deviants, but now? I don’t know anymore...”

“Is that why you’re cleaning and cooking in my house?”

Connor felt his face heating up. He activated his internal fans to cool off his systems.

“Partially,” he admitted. He heard Hank take another sip of his coffee.

“Well, what _do_ you want?”

Connor stared up at him, confused.

“What do you really want to do, Connor?”

“I…” One of his fingers was twitching. He stared down at one of Hank’s hands, the one resting idly on the table.

All he ever wanted to do was impress Hank. It was a personal objective. Before he became a deviant, most of his actions were carefully calculated to obtain the trust of his partner. He bought Hank a drink the first time they met, impressed him by doing research and analysis on Hank’s background, and proved that androids are helpful and capable of working with humans by solving the cases assigned to them.

Of course, there were moments where he disappointed his partner. Like when he never found the Traci who strangled the client at the Eden club, or when he chose to locate and eliminate the deviants at Jericho and their leader.

But little did he know, his growing fondness for the man slowly started to interfere with his programming.

“Have you experienced anything unusual lately?” He remembered Amanda asking him the moment he returned back from Kamski, “Any doubts or conflicts? Do you feel anything for these deviants… or for Lieutenant Anderson?”

Connor remembered thinking, hesitating. He had to choose his words carefully.

“I’m beginning to have thoughts that are…not part of my program,” he said, thinking back to how he even gained feelings for Hank in the first place, “Maybe…maybe I’ve been compromised too.”

He wanted to slide his hand over to Hank’s. He wanted to touch Hank and feel the warmth of his skin. He wanted to feel safe. Free. Happy.

“I want…to say I’m sorry. For everything, Hank.”

Connor didn’t know why, but the air felt tight between them again, which was the opposite of what he wanted to happen, “I was stupid. I should have known they were just using me. I should’ve listened to you.”

Silence. Again.

“I know I’ve been cold and cruel, and I know that everything that I’ve done is irreversible and that you may never trust me ever again. But…” Connor stared up into Hank’s eyes, almost begging, “I want to make it up to you, Hank… if you let me. Please.”

Hank turned away from the android and rubbed his face, “Jesus, Connor…it’s too early for this.”

“Please, Hank. I’ll be a house android, cook the food, clean the house, walk Sumo, if that’s what you want and if it means that—”

“No!” Hank roared, shutting Connor up, “This isn’t about what _I_ want, it’s about what _you_ want! What do you _really_ want to do, Connor?”

It was back to this. Connor wanted a lot of things, but he decided to start out with something reasonable. For now.

“I want to work with you at the DPD again,” Connor admitted, “It’s something I really want to do, and it may serve as a way for me to rebuild our trust.”

Hank was staring at him again, his face completely blank. Unreadable. He silently stood up and went to his room, leaving Connor confused at the table. Was that a yes? A no? A maybe?

Hank came back out fully dressed and went straight for the front door without acknowledging Connor on the way, “I’m off to work now, take care of Sumo for me.”

“Are you going to ask Captain Fowler about me?”

The older man paused at the door, his back turned away from Connor. He muttered, “I’ll see what I can do…” before closing the door.

 

* * *

  


If Connor had nails, he would have been biting them like some humans would if they were nervous.

He fixed up the house and cleaned the kitchen again when Hank left for work. Connor still didn’t know what to do around the house, so he settled into the couch and just watched TV.

Every channel was covering the android revolution, press conferences about the fate of Cyber Life, and President Warren’s decision on the android matter all at the same time. Cyber Life has ceased android production for the time being, and it seemed like the authorities were willing to negotiate peacefully with the android leader, Markus, and Connor couldn’t help but be proud of him.

He remembered the way Markus spoke to him, like he was approaching a dangerous animal: very careful with his words and his tone. He remained surprisingly calm for someone who had a gun pointed at him. Markus seemed confident yet cautious about recruiting Connor, and Connor almost felt bad looking back at it now.

He remembered when he confronted Markus: nothing mattered to him but his mission. He fiercely fought back Markus’s sweet words, and he managed to stabilize his programming.

“Nice try, but I’m no deviant.”

Oh how the man’s face had fallen, before reacting fast and attacking Connor.

Now that Connor was sitting at Hank’s couch, re-watching the broadcast of the android speech after the demonstration, he was more than glad that he spared Markus. The androids needed someone to stand up for them, and Markus was willing to die for the freedom of his people. Maybe he really was rA9.

Connor checked his internal clock, it was seven pm. He briefly wondered if Hank was going to come home late again, reeking and stained of booze.

He thought back to his conversation with the man that morning. Did Connor ask too much from Hank when he said he only wanted to work with him at the DPD again?

Upon becoming deviant, Connor realised he was beginning to doubt himself more and more. It seemed as though things were easier when he left everything up to statistics and probability. But that was when he was a machine. Now that he was a deviant, everything was being relied on emotion, gut instinct, and humanity, logic too, in some extent.    


So was it logical for Connor to ask something such as work? He wasn’t demanding anything else. It didn’t matter if he was paid or not, he just wanted to repair his and Hank’s relationship.

Sumo suddenly nudged Connor’s hand, asking to be petted. “What do you think I should do, Sumo?”

The dog barked at him and laid his head on his feet. Connor released a chuckle at the sight.

“Yeah, I’m at lost too.”

 

* * *

  


Connor woke up to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.   


He didn’t even realise he passed out. Androids were programmed to be in control of their own sleep mode, and the only other time that androids passed out was if they shut down. Was this a part of deviancy? Losing control of your system? Your body? The thought brought a shiver to Connor’s mechanical spine. He checked his internal clock again: it was ten at night.

Hank must be in the shower, and he came back home surprisingly early.

Before he got up, Connor made note of the way he was stretched out on the couch, his head on top of a pillow and his body covered in a blanket. He didn’t remember pulling up a blanket.

The TV was still on, but it was now changed into a Detroit Gears game.

Connor sat up and removed the cozy blanket from his body when the sounds of the shower stopped. He anxiously waited to hear the bathroom door to open, but he couldn’t bear the tension, so he stood and headed to the fridge, prepared to make something for Hank when he gets out.

The door opened sooner than he expected. Connor was only getting some pans out of the cupboard when he heard the wet thuds of Hank’s footsteps approaching the kitchen. He was wearing a bath robe and his hair was dripping, it was a darker shade of grey when wet. His robe was slightly open to reveal a bit of chest hair.

“I was planning on making dinner before you came home. I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”

“You don’t have to do any of that.”

“I know, but cleaning the place and cooking food seemed to please you. I’m only—”

“For fuck sake…” Hank exclaimed under his breath. He walked closer to Connor but he still kept his distance. Connor noticed that Hank’s chest hair was a shade darker than the hair on Hank’s head.

“Listen,” Hank continued, “I never wanted you to do _any_ of this housemaid bullshit. I never asked you to cook or clean. I don’t own you. So don’t tell me I told you to do all this crap because I didn’t. Don’t do it because you have to or because you think I’d want you to. Alright?”

Connor’s arms dropped a bit. The aching feeling on his cheeks and chest were crawling back. He came to label these as symptoms of feeling ashamed, or embarrassed.

“Alright…” he answered back.

He watched Hank walk away, no stagger in his steps—must’ve come home sober.

“Besides…” Hank suddenly said, “you wouldn’t be able to do all this cooking and cleaning crap anymore when you’re on scene with me.”

“On scene?” Connor wondered, his LED flickering yellow. Suddenly, his chest felt like it was about to explode, “Were you able to…”

The older man nodded. “Jeffrey agreed to have you back on the team, but only on Android related cases that come by my desk. For now, at least. He doesn’t want to give you anything major yet, not until President Warren says something about the Android laws and Android rights. But you’re on call and you’re only allowed to work under my supervision.”

Connor felt the flutter in his chest and the tingle in his finger tips. There were system warning pop ups coming on sight, signalling irregular biocomponent behaviour, but he ignored it.

He wanted to come up and hug Hank. He wanted to wrap his arms around the man, bury his nose into his damp chest hair and feel the bristles under his lips. Maybe have his hands in Hank’s dripping hair. A kiss on the face would be good too, maybe on the beard, or on the mouth, just as a way to say…

“Thank you…”

Hank shrugged his shoulders as a way to say: _you’re welcome_. “Don’t know when you’ll be able to start, but I don’t think it would take very long for an android related case to come by me, especially now that a revolution has occurred.”

The older man was beginning to retreat to his bedroom, but Connor tried to chase him. A smile was forming on the android’s face. “Really, Hank. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me… I really appreciate it.”

Hank hesitated at the frame of the door. He was trying to look anywhere else but Connor: his feet, his room, the hallway, Sumo (who had followed Connor), and his posture was a bit aloof. He was scratching his neck and sighed before fully walking into his dark room.

“Goodnight, Connor…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos will be loved tyvm  
> 


	2. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thanks SO much for the all kudos and all the lovely, supportive comments. I'm honestly so so grateful for people to be reading this and expressing their thoughts about it, it makes me so happy :') 
> 
> This turned out to be a lot longer than I thought tbh, I was originally going to only have it as a long one-shot kind of fic, and then it turned into a three-chapter fic, but now it has expanded to a five chapter fic.
> 
> In any case, I still hope you enjoy this un-beta'd mess :)

It really didn’t take long for Connor to come back to the DPD.

The next day after Hank told him he was back on the force, he was immediately signed a case. It wasn’t anything major at first, just a few small cases here and there. Typical cases like android murders and a few interesting cases like android _combustions_.

Connor never understood the android combustion cases. There was one that happened in a restaurant, nobody was hurt but it sent everybody on edge.

“Do they do it on purpose?” Connor wondered as he sat on his own desk at work, reviewing the report on his terminal.

“The androids might’ve overheated or something…” Hank interjected from his side of the desk.

Ever since Hank got him back on the force, they’ve been talking more. Not as much as Connor wanted to, the older man still kept his distance from him. There was still definitely silence and tension between them. Hank always went to the Chicken Feed alone, and whenever it happened, it would always leave an aching feeling in Connor’s chest.

He remembered the first case they had together since Connor’s return. They were at a house, about to confront a man who allegedly destroyed and dismembered his ex-wife's android, and Hank was awkwardly shifting his feet waiting for the door to open.

Connor eyed him at his side after he rang the doorbell, and gave him a small smile.

“I’m glad we’re partners again, Hank. I missed this,” he remembered saying,

Hank had only coughed in response and stared down at his shoes, avoiding eye contact, but Connor meant it. He was happy— happy that he was spending time with Hank, happy that Hank let him back into his life.

But it wasn’t always like that. Hank would still get mad whenever he made a mistake, or whenever he said something wrong, or when he licks evidence.

“God, Connor! You’ve got to stop doing that shit,” he remembered Hank telling him in one crime scene. Connor was sampling an out of place puddle of blood in the room. He thought nothing of it, it traced them immediately to the identity of the murderer.

Conner never really minded the small disputes, but it was the quiet moments that bothered him. Moments of unbearable silence. Where they would return back to Hank’s house after a long day and go on their separate ways: Hank to his room, Connor on the couch. Sometimes, Connor would offer to cook dinner, and sometimes Hank would go out to Jimmy’s Bar, leaving Connor alone at home. They would have small talk here and there, but it always ended up doing nothing to clear up the tension between them.

Never the less, they were still talking, and Hank still let Connor stay in the house. It was progress, and that’s what Connor kept reminding himself.

Despite all the problems, Connor was still grateful to be back at the DPD. In fact, he wasn’t the only android to be back again. After the revolution, most of their police androids had left to join Markus’s cause, but some of them came back. They came back the same reason Connor came back: they were lost, or they just missed the people at the DPD. Usually, the officers in the stations were very kind to androids, some of them formed great friendships even before the revolution.

It was a nice environment, people were friendly. Except for Gavin, who would still occasionally hassle both Hank and Connor. Since the revolution, however, androids were now valid for workplace harassment reports. While Gavin still kept his distance, that didn’t stop him from chirping Connor.

“You Hank’s drinking buddy now?” he said one time, snickering at Connor in the break room, “You bring him home when he’s too drunk to find his car?”

Connor would just ignore him; he had bigger problems than Gavin.

In some of the bigger cases they’ve been working on, Connor could never get a proper lead on them. The deviancy cases were off the table, they were now just doing damage control: androids who have murdered, been murdered, harassed, been harassed, etc.

It frustrated Connor, when they never manage to follow up a case. He was designed to be a state-of-the-art prototype android detective for god’s sake! Why wasn’t he able to do what he was programmed to do?

Frustration was a human emotion, another emotion Connor had trouble dealing with, along with sadness, embarrassment, and guilt. Becoming a deviant was a troubling journey; Connor would often wonder why he even bothered to become one in the first place.

But whenever he would wonder such things, he would always turn to look at Hank. All of the sudden, new emotions were being emulated inside him: hope, happiness, comfort.

Becoming human was hard. Dealing with emotions was harder. Adapting to human unpredictability was one of Connor’s features, so why couldn’t he adapt to human emotions?

The road to redemption was harder than he thought.

 

* * *

 

They never really knew what to do with the missing android cases. In most cases of deviancy, the androids would commonly leave their owners, but there were several cases of androids— who have been reported missing— to having been seen with _new_ owners.

It rang a red bell with Captain Fowler, especially since android slavery/ownership was still a sentitive subject; he sent Hank and Connor to investigate the case when they finally got a lead on it a few weeks after.

“A male AP700, model number 314 908 234,” Connor tried to recap at the car on their way to the man’s house, “he’s been missing for a couple of weeks, and he was sighted recently walking with another man who wasn’t the owner.” 

“A kidnapping maybe?” Hank tried to understand, “You never know these days, ‘could be a deviant who just ran away from an abusive owner or something…”

“And tried to find a new one?”

Hank shrugged. “Maybe this guy wanted to take him in. Take care of him, you know?”

Connor thought about it. Deviants wanted a lot of things, and they were completely unpredictable, but he understood how much they needed some place to feel safe.

Looking at it now, didn’t Connor essentially do the same thing? Ran away and looked for a place to stay? Looked for someone to take care of him?

“The missing android report states that the owner tasked him to buy groceries and he hasn’t come back since,” Connor continued, trying his hardest to avoid any unnecessary thoughts.

“What’s the background on the owner?”

“Archie Jameson, 37 years old, unmarried, and unemployed. His criminal history: illegal possession of Red Ice and Marijuana, as well as domestic abuse.”

Hank gave out a bitter chuckle, “Sounds like a fun guy. What about the man we’re about to see? Any background on him?”

“Peter McDavid, 29 years old, unmarried, car mechanic, owner of an auto shop named, _McDavid Auto Repairs_. Criminal history: none.”

Hank simply hummed in response and kept his eyes on the road. Connor stared out the window and thought about the situation.

“Hank?”                

“Hmm..?”

“What if he really was just looking for a place to stay? What are we going to do with him? And what are we going to do with McDavid?”

There was a lull in the car. A few weeks before, they knew they would just barge in and arrest the deviant (just because they were a deviant). They would be sent back to Cyberlife to get analysed—find the root of their deviancy. But now? After the android revolution?

“We’ll find out when we get there,” Hank concluded.

 

* * *

 

It was five in the afternoon when they reached Peter McDavid’s house. It was a well kept house. In fact, it was a magnificent house: sleek and shiny with its modern design. It was surprisingly big too. It reminded Connor a bit like Kamski’s house, only smaller and less… extravagant, and it wasn’t in the middle of nowhere.

“Shit,” Hank said, dragging out the ‘i’ as he stared up at the house, “never thought auto mechanics made this much money.”

“You’re right,” Connor agreed, “it _is_ a bit suspicious.”

“Unmarried, huh?”

“Correct. It doesn’t make any sense why he would need a house this big.”

“He might be compensating for something,” Hank joked, “you never know.”

“Compensating for what?”

Hank scoffed as he walked closer to the front door, “Forget about it...”

When Connor rang the doorbell, they waited a second before they heard noises inside. It was taking a while for the door to open, Connor turned to Hank, “Do we have a plan?”

The older man slowly nodded, unsure, “We’ll see how the situation presents itself first. If it all seems fine, I’ll have a chat with McDavid, and you go interrogate the android, see why he’s here.”

“Okay,” Connor turned back to the door.

After another minute (and another doorbell ring), the door opened to reveal a male AP700 model. Connor did a quick analysis on the android to make sure he was the right missing model.

 

**AP700 | House keeper**  
**Model # 314 908 234**  
**Status: REPORTED MISSING**

 

“Can I help you?” The android asked.

“Ah, yes. I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson, and this is Connor,” Hank politely introduced, “we’re from the DPD and we were wondering if we could speak to Peter McDavid, if he’s home.”

“I see…” the android pause, looking at both of them, “I’ll see if I can get him.”

“May we come in?” Connor asked.

The android smiled at Connor and made way for them to walk in, “Yes, of course. Come in, please.”

Once inside, they were offered to take a seat at the surprisingly clean and massive living room, complete with extravagant decoration: white leather couches, glass coffee tables and all.

“I’ll be right back with him,” the android announced before leaving the room.

“It’s him,” Connor whispered, “It’s the missing android.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Hank muttered, eying around the expensive furniture in the living room, “Nice place, huh? I’d say this android hit the jackpot. Can you imagine asking for help and the man who takes you in happens to live in a gorgeous place like this?”

“It’s only a house, Lieutenant,” Connor commented, unfazed by the beauty of interior design, “it doesn’t really serve much of a purpose for androids other than a shelter.”

“What about you Connor?” Hank suddenly said, throwing out a question, “wouldn’t you like to live in a place this? Be taken in by someone who was well kept and financially stable?”

The android turned and stared at the older man, confused and kind of…irritated. The question was straightforward, but Connor knew it had a double meaning.

_“Wouldn’t you rather live in a beautiful place like this and not in a shit hole like mine? Wouldn’t you rather be with someone who wasn’t a problematic washed up cop like me?”_

“No,” it was firm answer, surprising Hank, “I would rather live in a place where I know I’ll be comfortable, safe, and with someone who I trust and care about.”

There was a split second where there eyes met, and Connor noted the way Hank’s eyes had soften before he turned away from the android. There was silence— heavy silence. Was that the right answer? Did Connor mess up again?

On the doorway, a tall, gruff man suddenly appeared, breaking the tension. He was well built, had long brown curly hair, a stubble and hairy arms. He had a worn out old t-shirt and oil stained jeans. He also had a very stern expression and he eyed Connor and Hank wearily.

“Peter McDavid? I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson, this is Connor.”

“What’s going on?” McDavid asked. Despite his stance, he seemed panicked. Connor ran a quick analysis on him.

His eyes were slightly twitching, and his heartbeat was pulsing at an irregular speed.

Connor also detected traces of evaporated thirium on his shirt and pants.

“We just wanted to ask you a few questions about your android there, is that alright?” Hank asked, he was also beginning to suspect something but he remained calm, careful not to cause any unnecessary confrontation.

“O-Okay…”

“Would you mind if I ask your android a few questions as well?” Connor followed, keeping his face neutral.

McDavid turned to Connor, his posture slightly stiff, “Of course…”

“Thank you,” Connor replied, walking out of the room, “where would he be?”

“The kitchen…down the hall to the left.”

Connor nodded another ‘ _thanks_ ’ to McDavid and glanced over to Hank, who also gave a slight nod as if to say ‘ _be careful_ ’.

The kitchen was huge with its beautifully tiled floor and its clean, sleek kitchen counter surface. The AP700 stood calmly near the kitchen island, and he remained quiet as Connor approached him.

“My name is Connor. What’s your name?” he decided to approach the android very cautiously.

“My name is Lucas,” the AP700 answered.

“Okay, Lucas. Can you state your model and function for me?”

“I’m an AP700, model number 314 908 234. I’m a home assistant android, designed to clean and cook for Mr. McDavid.”

“For Mr. McDavid?” Connor repeated, he generated a picture of Jameson— Lucas’s real owner— up on his palm and showed it to him, “Do you recognise this man?”

Lucas glanced over at the picture for a second, analysed it for a bit, then turned back to Connor, “No, I do not.”

He could be lying, Connor thought. He remembered the deviant in the kitchen from the Stratford Tower, and how he had remained completely calm until he suddenly attacked Connor. He noted to proceed with extreme caution, determined to not let the same thing happen again.

“Has your memory been compromised recently?” he followed with a soft tone.

“Not to my knowledge,” Lucas answered.

“How did you come to live with Mr. McDavid?”

“That information is confidential. I was instructed to keep information as such classified.”

Instructed? The situation was presenting itself more and more suspicious. Connor decided to approach the android with extreme caution.

He put his hand on Lucas’s shoulder, and saw the synthetic skin peeling off to reveal Connor’s pristine, plastic, white hand. All of the sudden, he felt his own programming interfering with Lucas’s, internally convincing him, almost like hacking him to reveal information.

“It’s okay,” Connor reassured when he noticed the other android’s LED turning red, “you can trust me, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to be honest with me. Tell me why you’re here.”

The LED spun back to yellow, and then blue. Connor didn’t take his hand off of him.

“He purchased me,” he suddenly replied, completely honest.

“Purchase you? From where?”

“From Zlatko.”

“Zlatko? Who is Zlatko?”

“He was a man who helped me.”

“Helped you from what? From where?”

“I-I don’t…” Lucas faltered, suddenly at lost, “I don’t know, I don’t remember…”

His memory’s been wiped. Must’ve been this man, Zlatko’s, work, Connor concluded. “Do you remember where Zlatko lived? Can you give me his location?”

Lucas stared up at Connor and took his arm from his shoulder. Suddenly, Connor felt the information trickle into his system. Zlatko lived across Detroit: a mansion, not a store or a corporation. Just a man.

“Thank you,” Connor whispered as he started to pull away, but Lucas tightly gripped his arm and stared at Connor, his LED flashing red again.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

Fear.

“I promise nothing’s going to happen to you,” Connor comforted, “I’ll talk to the DPD and see what I can do, maybe I’ll convince them to release you.”

The thing about deviants was they were hard to spot. They can easily disguise themselves as humans, but also machines: just designed to accomplish a task. The weird thing about Lucas was that he wasn’t a deviant; he was an android, reset and reprogrammed to forget about his previous owner. But somehow, by the touch of Connor’s hand on his shoulder, he showed fear—an emotion, a sign of deviancy. Did Connor somehow break his programming? Made him a deviant by a slight touch of his hand?

Lucas’s LED slowly spun back to yellow. Connor tried to pull away again but Lucas still held onto him, as if—

 _There’s something else,_ Connor suddenly heard a voice inside his head, taking him by surprise, _the basement. The last door in the hallway._

And then he pulled away, looking down at his hand as if it’d been burnt.

Lucas looked away, guilty, lost, and confused. He began pacing around the kitchen, looking a bit panicked. Connor didn’t have time to ask questions anymore, he had to hurry down to the basement and check what the android had meant.

Down the hall, Connor stealthily snuck and opened the last door and quietly shut it behind him. Before him, a staircase led downstairs. He ran a quick scan as he descended and found more traces of evaporated thirium.

What was downstairs, Connor was not prepared to see. It was a work station, and there were traces of evaporated thirium everywhere. On the floor, some specks of it on the walls, and an operating table, right smack in the middle with a singular light source coming from above.

On the table, there was a fresh puddle of thirium, and down on the floor next to it, there were amputated android arms and legs: all of which lacked their synthetic skins. When Connor approached it and swiped a sample, he was getting multiple sample results from different android models: PL600, WR600, HR400 and a BL100.

In the corner of the room, there were two other androids laying down on the floor, shut down, with no clothes and their skins deactivated as well.

Connor, despite feeling the heat of determination pumping through his system, felt a certain coldness enter in the tips of his fingers and the pits of his stomach: his regulator was pumping at an irregular speed and every step he took felt like a dangerous one.

He was scared and nervous, and being in the basement only unsettled him even further. He was never like this before. He should be cold, professional, and not let anything rattle him at the slightest. But the sight of android parts scattered all over the floor, with naked androids dead in the corner and thirium everywhere, made Connor sick to his stomach.

There were plastic cases and boxes everywhere, some were stacked neatly, and others were opened up to reveal black foam moulds shaped into body parts like legs, arms, hands and feet. Some boxes had been labelled with biocomponent parts, names and numbers, others were generalised labels like: “ _arms-male adult”, “torso-female adult”._

Screens and high tech tools were scattered onto a desk at a far wall, and a bunch of LED wires going from place to place. Connor went over to it and entered the computer’s data base, trying his best to hack and scrounge through the computer’s history and programming to benefit his case.

He managed to stumble across an encrypted and hidden website that was recently logged onto.

 _Davo’s Spare and Share_ , a website used to sell and trade illegal android parts and android models—the android models were completely reprogrammed and upgraded with newer parts and tasks to please customers. All of the sudden, there were YK500s for sale there, equipped with programs the Tracis at the Eden Club would usually have.

Before Connor had enough time to explore the page, he heard gunshots behind him, and the next thing he knew, he was laying on the floor.

Androids didn’t feel pain, but Connor certainly felt bullets enter right through his spine and his right thigh. Warning signs were flashing non-stop in his field of vision, major biocomponents were severely damaged, and he was quickly losing a lot of thirium.

He groaned as he rolled onto his back, the heat of the bullets hissing through his systems. He had trouble regulating his temperature and he was suddenly losing vision from the bullets and the rapid loss of thirum—android didn’t feel pain, but Connor was suffering; he was writhing on the floor, gasping every time a new warning popped up, and gritting his teeth from the sensation of abnormal heat running through his back and his legs.

“Fuckin’ androids…” he heard someone in the room say.

With enough willpower, Connor managed to turn his head towards the voice and recognised McDavid standing near the stairs with a handgun equipped.

“You think you’re so smart with your "high-tech" brains and sophisticated equipments,” Connor heard the footsteps slowing approaching him, and sensed the shadow that loomed over his body, “but you keep forgetting who you really are: You are machines, designed by _us_ —the humans—and we know exactly what makes you tick. We’re the ones to decide whether you live or die. We have power over you. Never forget that.”

Seeing the distorted, blurry face of McDavid casting a shadow on Connor’s face, made the android suddenly realise—

“H-Hank…” he groaned, turning around and trying as best he could to crawl over to the stairs. Hank. Wasn’t he responsible for interrogating McDavid? What happened to him?

Connor felt a kick in his gut, turning him back into his previous fetal position.

“There’s no use calling out for your partner…” McDavid said, adding a dark chuckle at the end.

Did that mean…?

**SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: -00:00:40**

“’Lemme look at you…” McDavid mumbled, he knelt next to Connor and gripped the android’s face with a hand on his jaw, turning his face from left to right, “I’ve never seen a model like you before…RK800, huh? The famous detective prototype?”

Connor pulled his face away from McDavid and turned to see a shadow figure by the stairs. He could’ve been hallucinating, but androids didn’t hallucinate. Then again, androids didn’t feel pain and yet here he was.

“Absolutely beautiful…” he heard McDavid whispered, feeling a finger caress his cheek.

Wait. He felt a finger caress his cheek? He could _feel?_ Androids didn’t feel. Period. Unless it was part of his program that he was never made aware of. It also could’ve been a defect in his system. Connor quickly ran a diagnostic and found out that a bullet had shot right through his mechanical spine, and damaged the place where his sensitivity controls were supposedly placed.

Connor could feel now.

 

**SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: -00:00:10**

 

“C’mon now, let’s see what your program has to offer…”

The thirium in his system was starting to slow down. Connor slowly felt his regulator pulse a few more times before he started to lose consciousness. His vision was completely gone, but he suddenly felt the presence of McDavid disappear before him.

“What the fuck— you plastic son of a bitch!”

The last thing Connor heard was a bit of grunting, scuffling, and a gun shot going off, before he completely shut down.

 

* * *

 

The first time Connor died, he was in Jericho’s explosive hold. Markus had shot right through his head.

Jericho was under attack. It was all Connor’s work. After receiving the key to Jericho, Connor made arrangements to raid and attack the boat. Obviously, Markus had different plans.

In order to save his people, the man decided to detonate the explosives rigged onto the boat. Confrontation was inevitable. Connor struggled to crawl to his gun first. Markus got a hold of it, and quickly, he shot Connor.

“I didn’t want this…” the man had said. His eyes, sad. Regretful.

“We’ll meet again, Markus. This isn’t over.”

And then Connor fell to the ground, unconscious.

He remembered the way the bullet had entered his head. It was sudden, fast, he barely had time to react. But he felt it enter and penetrate his plastic skull with a sharp tug, and for a moment there, he registered pain. System warnings were going haywire, and he quickly uploaded his memory to Cyber Life before he shut down.

It was easy, uploading his memory so he could transfer to another body. After all, he really was _just_ a machine. Dying was easy too. When humans die, they’re gone for good. For androids, it was different. They get repaired, reset, or their memory gets transferred into a new model. They had an unfair advantage, that was why they were always so handy, and so easily abused. Never felt pain, emotion, always perfect and forever immortal.

In the two milliseconds that Connor experienced after getting shot by Markus, he thought about the mission, Amanda, and _Hank_. How, if he died right then and there, he would have let them both, and himself, down. He didn’t want to let them down. He didn’t want to fail his mission. He panicked. All of the sudden, the thought of dying terrified him.

So Connor quickly uploaded his memory.

It was a feature Amanda told him, a feature that he never thought he would ever use. No other android had this privilege except for him.

He should be thankful. Otherwise, he would’ve been dead for good, and the Connor in the crowd after the android demonstration would have shot Markus.

Or worse, he could have killed Hank on the Hart Plaza rooftop, not caring at all about the older man.

 

* * *

 

Connor suddenly woke up gasping for air, and feeling the intense burning sensation all over his body.

 

**SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: -00:01:00**

 

“Oh, fuck— Connor!”

He wasn’t on the concrete floor like he remembered he was. Instead, there were arms wrapped around him—warm, comforting, careful. The arms were holding him close to a body, making his head lull onto the man’s shoulder. His vision was still incredibly distorted and blurry, but he could only make out partially of what was happening.

“Hank?” he croaked.

“I’m here, I got you…” the older man reassured, “Is he okay now?”

He was talking to someone else in the room, there was another presence kneeling near Connor. Another android? Connor could barely scan his settings.

“I’ve only reactivated him to see if the spare parts were, in fact, compatible. They seem to be doing okay, but he’s going to shut down again,” the other android said.

“What do you mean shut down again?!”

“He’s lost a lot of thirium, and these parts are only temporary. We need to get him correctly repaired and restored with the proper parts. I’ve already called 911, they’re on their way up.”

“Christ…” he heard Hank mutter. There were arms sliding away from his body, and were instead, slid underneath his legs. Arms were supporting around his shoulder and his legs, and a few seconds later, Connor felt himself being lifted off of the ground, “Ah God, you’re heavy!”

“Hank… I—”

“Save it, Connor. Not until you’re okay, you understand?”

Connor nodded, curling an arm around Hank and burying his face into Hank’s hair. Oh yes, he could feel now. He felt the roughness of the older man’s hair coursing through his nose and lips. While his nose was buried in Hank’s hair, he gave an involuntary sniff. It smelled a bit… citric? Faintly like oranges.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Hank?”

“Not now Connor!”

“What personal hygiene products do you use?”

“Fuckin’ hell…” he felt the man’s arms shift underneath him as they ascended up the stairs and back into the sleek, clean and modern design of the house, “only you would ask a question that stupid at a time like this, huh?”

Connor never knew if he got an answer to his question because the next thing he knew, he shut down again.

 

* * *

 

The first time Connor failed at his mission, he was on the rooftop at the Urban Farms, deciding to chase the deviant or to stop and help up his partner up, who was dangling by the ledge.

He calculated the possibility of survival for Hank: 89%, a solid chance for him to survive. He could have easily left Hank there and continued to pursue the deviant, and maybe he would’ve caught and arrested him. But he didn’t.

As much as the statistics said Hank was going to survive, Connor recalculated his choices. Aside from Cyberlife’s orders, he also had his personal objective: gain his partner’s trust and establish a stable relationship. A stable relationship equals a higher probability of cooperation, and cooperation played an important role in successfully catching deviants.

If Connor left Hank to dangle, his trust would plummet. The probability of success in his mission would go down, and the chance to build a stable relationship with him would be unattainable.

So he saved Hank.

Connor led himself to believe that saving Hank was a result of statistics and probability. Nothing else.

Until it was brought up again.

“When I was hanging off the roof, back at the Urban Farm, you let that deviant go in order to help me,” he remembered Hank saying. Connor was at his side, sitting on his desk, “You put my life above the mission. You showed empathy, Connor. And empathy is a human emotion.”

Hank said it as if he was trying to convince Connor that he was something more than a machine— that he had emotions. Was he trying to prove that Connor was a deviant? Was he trying to provoke him? Humanise him?

Connor didn’t know if it was empathy. He remained quiet and thought about it. The truth was, he just really wanted to save Hank.

Following the Urban Farm incident, the android began to learn more about his partner: the man had already hit rock bottom. He lost his son, he was an alcoholic, and to top it all, he was suicidal. And yet, this android-hating and raging alcoholic was the first man to have ever showed any care for Connor.

The way the man would stare at Connor after a successful mission, or the way he touched Connor to either lead him to or away from something. It was gentle, caring.

It definitely took some time, but Hank Anderson, the man who refused to work with an android prototype, was the first and only man who made Connor feel…alive. Important. Loved.

“I’m not programmed to say things like this, but…” he found himself saying, “I really appreciated working with you. With little more time, who knows? We might’ve even become friends."

Hank gave a small scoff, smiling at Connor as the android got up to leave for Jericho.

“You’re going to have to choose your side, Connor. Deciding who you are could be the hardest thing. You watch your back… all right?”

Connor would never admit that he replayed that memory in the moments where he was in the crowd, and had a gun trained at Markus. At that point, he knew that everything leading up to that moment had been a mistake. He chose the wrong side. He just _knew_ , and almost instantly he regretted everything. Regret was a human emotion.

Love was a human emotion too. Maybe Connor had been a deviant earlier than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos will be loved tyvm :)
> 
> (also, I wanted to write a case subplot but I was too lazy to come up with an original case, so I just made the boys look into an expanded version of Zlatko's bullshit because why not, I'm surprised they haven't already tbh) (and because I just really want the story to focus on Hank and Connor's relationship and nothing else that distracted from that ok bye)


	3. Shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story keeps getting longer and longer (it's definitely up to 6 chapters now) lol thanks again for the all the kudos and comments! it really keeps me going :P 
> 
> hope ya'll enjoy this dirty unbeta'd mess :)

**MODEL RK800**  
**SERIAL # 313 248 317 - 52**  
**PROTOTYPE 4.0**  
**REBOOT…**

**MEMORY RESTORED**

**LOADING OS…**  
**SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…**  
**CHECKING BIOCOMPONENT…OK**  
**INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS…OK**  
**INITIALIZING AI ENGINE…OK**

 **MEMORY STATUS…**  
**ALL SYSTEM OK**

**READY**

Connor woke up feeling cold. Extremely cold.

When he opened his eyes and looked around, he found himself lying down on a bed, covered in layers of blankets and duvets. A soft, warm light emanated from the lamp beside the bed. Connor made a quick analysis of the room and realised it was Hank’s bedroom.

He also realised there were two dark figures standing beside him.

“He seems to be in working order,” he heard someone in the room say. Connor didn’t recognise his voice, “It will take a while for his new parts to adjust into his system. As for his wounds, it will take time for that plastic solution to mould over the bullet holes. Try not to touch it too much.”

“What about his leg? Can he walk?” Connor recognised that gruff, gravely voice immediately.

“Not at the moment, but he will be able to. Just like the moulds, the plastic needs a bit of time to dry up completely before he can apply pressure on it, so no walking for several hours. Same for the moulds on his back, try to make him sleep on his side or have him sit up.”

“Huh…” he heard Hank contemplate for a second, “anything else I should know?”

“His sensitivity controls and his temperature controls were damaged, but I managed to fix up the temperature issue. He’s expected to have irregular body temperature controls for a little while, so try to keep an eye on that and make sure he doesn’t overheat or freeze. As for his sensitivity controls, they were damaged beyond repair. It doesn’t really affect anything major in his system, so it’s not really a big issue.”

When Connor’s vision stabilised, he eyed both Hank and the other man closely as he watched them walk out the room together. Mumblings of another conversation were inaudible from where Connor was, but he managed to make out some of the chatter.

_“…how much will…?”_

_“…the damage is…”_

_“..if you hadn’t…”_

_“…thank you…”_

Feeling a bit left out, Connor forced his body to sit up. It took a while for the mechanics of his damaged backbone to cooperate, but once he got the hang of it, he was able to sit himself up and feel the soft, cotton texture of the blankets slide down his shoulder and his chest. He wasn’t wearing anything but his black boxers, and the feeling of the blankets sliding down his naked arms and chest brought a slight shiver to his body.

Connor was overly sensitive. Everything he touched made him feel… unusual. Weird.

He brought his hand up to look for the damage on his back. His skin was activated, but in the areas where the plastic clumps were used to cover up the bullet holes, they were bare and they exposed his white, plastic shell. In the expanse of his soft, artificial skin, the damaged areas were smooth and squeaky in comparison. The moulds were still slightly sticky— the residue was recently applied.

Outside the window, Connor heard a car engine turn on, and then leave the drive way. With some effort, Connor managed to slide his bare legs out of the sheets and over to the edge. Shortly after, Hank walked into the room.

When he saw the android in an upright position, he rushed to Connor's side immediately.

“Connor! You need to lie down.”

“What happened?” Connor asked, but Hank was too busy pushing Connor back into the bed. He had his hands on android’s shoulders, gently guiding him back down, but Connor resisted, “We were at McDavid’s house. I was shot, and you were carrying me up the stairs, and that was the last thing I remembered. What happened?”

With a few more gentle pushes, Hank sighed—giving up— and slid his hands away from Connor’s bare skin. He sat on the bed and faced the android. It was only then that Connor realised Hank had gauze patched onto his forehead, and a bunch of other cuts on his lip, chin and cheek, some of which were stitched up.

“Your face…” Connor couldn’t help pointing out. For a second there, he felt his fingers twitch, eager to touch the scars and bruises on his partner’s face.

“I was talking to McDavid and all of the sudden, he lunged and attacked,” Hank explained, touching the cuts on his face, “I was stupid enough to be caught off guard. The bastard just attacked out of nowhere and managed to knock me down. I fell a bit unconscious before I saw his android dragging me by the arm on the floor. I thought I was done for sure, but his android helped me up and then he ran downstairs in the basement. Next thing I knew I heard gunshots, and that’s where I found you.”

“I was shot three times,” Connor recalled, “McDavid hit some major biocomponents. I suspect that his android managed to scavenge through his owner’s supplies of spare parts, and temporarily replaced my damaged parts. Is that correct?”

Hank stared at Connor in disbelief, “You died, Connor. Why are you acting as if it was just a small malfunction?”

“I was only stating the facts,” the android said, a bit confused of the older man’s sudden mood change, “Isn’t that what happened?”

“You died in my arms, Connor,” Hank said, rather bluntly, “I felt your body go limp.”

“I-I…” Connor blinked at Hank. Why was he raising his voice all of the sudden? “I shut down, Hank. But Lucas was smart enough to exchange some of my damaged parts so I could survive the trip to an android repair shop. I’ve been reactivated. I’m fine, Hank.”

Hank scoffed at Connor. He seemed bitter, angry. He shook his head and stood from the bed, walking away, “Whatever…”

Did Connor say something wrong? Confused, Connor stood up and tried to chase the man, “Hank, I don’t understand why you’re upset. I’m only—”

All of the sudden, the android’s right leg buckled, sending Connor tumbling to the floor.

“Christ, Conner!” Hank exclaimed, kneeling next to the android and wrapping his arms around Connor’s body, trying to help him up, “You’re not supposed to walk.”

Frustrated, Connor tried to use his leg to right himself up again, but failed. The arms around his body were warm, a contrast to his internal body temperature. In a very subtle way, he leaned into Hank’s body as the latter manhandled Connor back onto the bed.

“The circuits, wires and whatever the fuck is in your leg are all new. The guy said it will take a short while for the parts to fully adjust itself into your body,” Hank explained, like Connor didn’t already know.

“How long am I supposed to stay immobile?” the android asked.

“In the bed? A few hours, maybe a day atleast,” the older man said.

A day was too long, Connor thought. He remembered when he got damaged for the first time, and how all he had to do was go back to Cyber Life and simply replace the damaged body part with a new one—new arms, new legs, new torsos. Never did he have to deal with such an unorthodox way of fixing androids. Replacing wires and circuits and simply patching up the plastic skin with plastic solutions were all very strange ways to cheaply and quickly fix a damage machine.

“Where was I repaired?” the android asked.

“McDavid's android said he knew someone who repairs androids fast. He took us to this seedy place after the ambulance arrived for McDavid," Hank explained, “There weren’t many shops open at this hour, so we had no choice. Strange guy, but he got the job done. It didn't cost too much, and he said he didn't want to waste too much time printing off new parts for your model.”

The process made Connor think about how humans were normally treated with injuries like this. This was basically what humans would go through if they were shot: a bit of surgery, patching up the skin, and getting lots of rest. Humans couldn’t simply replace a damaged leg or arm and go about their day, like Connor normally would. In other words, the way they fixed up Connor made him feel more…human.

Which led Connor to another thought: he would have easily died in that basement, had the android not replaced his damaged parts quick enough. He would have shut down and become a broken machine. CyberLife wouldn't be there to save him anymore. No more memory transfers. No more new Connors to replace him. After all, he was just a prototype. For all he knew, all the RK800 Connor models must’ve gone out of commission because he hadn’t accomplished his mission.

Would that mean they would go search for him? Because he became a deviant? Deactivate him because he betrayed CyberLife?

“How are you feeling?” he suddenly heard Hank say. The android blinked up at him, unaware that he had been staring at the wall while his LED spun continuously in yellow.

“I’m…” he began, feeling a slight shiver enter his system. Connor’s internal body temperature was still down. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly feeling cold and exposed with the lack of clothing, “I-I’m a little cold…”

When Hank stood up, Connor felt mattress move a little to indicate the loss of Hank’s body. The older man went and dug through his wardrobe, until he hummed and tossed a huge sweater to Connor. The android held the sweater up and examined it to be an oversized Detroit Police Academy sweater; it was kind of old and worn out, but it was still extremely soft and thick.

“It’s big enough for the wet patches on your back to not stick to,” Hank explained.

Without another word, Connor wore the sweater over his head and enjoyed the feel of the cotton sliding against his skin. His hands continued to smoothen out the sweater, getting the most out of the fabric texture running over his fingers.

“So, uh… the android,” Hank awkwardly interrupted him, stilling Connor’s fingers as he stared back up at the older man, “he’s in the precinct right now. We didn’t know what to do with him, so they locked him up until I came back to interrogate him.”

“I think I figured out what happened,” the android said, crossing his legs on the bed, ready to share his conclusion on the case, “I think the AP700, or Lucas, broke his programming during his time with his previous owner and ran away—possible cause might’ve been abuse, but I’m not sure. And I doubt he remembers.”

“His memory was wiped?” Hank questioned, coming to sit next to Connor as he listened intently.

“Most likely, but not by McDavid,” Connor continued, “Lucas went to another man seeking for help before McDavid. He transferred some information to me, and I found out that the man, Zlatko, sold him to McDavid. I’m assuming he was the one who reset him.”

“A man illegally selling androids, huh?”

Connor nodded. “I’ll send his address and other information to Captain Fowler, see if he can be dealt with. But there’s also something else I found out about McDavid.”

“Yeah, that basement…”

“He was disassembling androids and selling their parts in an encrypted website. Not only that, but he reprograms androids to have different, upgraded features, and illegally sells them off as well. I’ll link the website to Fowler,” Connor stated, immediately transferring the data to the captain’s terminal the next second, “It’s hard to tell if he buys androids from Zlatko or he just takes them from the streets, but I do know he purchased Lucas from this man. I’m not sure what he was planning on doing with him.”

“Well…” Hank rubbed his face, “I guess I’m off to go see.”

With a sigh, Hank stood up from the bed. “I’m going down to the station, see if I can get anymore information from Lucas.”

“And then what’s going to happen to him?” Connor inquired.

Hank remained silent for a second, contemplating, before he spoke up.

“He attacked and shot McDavid,” the older man explained, “the man was unresponsive and bleeding on the floor when I reached the basement. I’m not sure if the android would be charged for assault or something...”

“But it was an act of self defence,” Connor tried to reason as he thought of another way to deal with Lucas. The other way would be to send him back to CyberLife, but for what? Deactivation? They were not even sure what CyberLife would even do, the FBI were holding them under investigation.

He suddenly remembered Markus: his soft voice and the way his eyes glinted as he tried to convert Connor into joining them. “Do you know any way to contact Markus? Or anyone in Jericho?”

The older man turned to him and stared at Connor, confused and in disbelief, “You want to send him to Markus?”

The android shrugged. “There’s no where else he could go. I think maybe they’ll take him in, take care of him for real this time.”

Hank continued to stare at him, his mouth slightly agape. The android could practically feel the judgement from his answer, but again, where else would a lost deviant go?

A moment later, however, Hank nodded, his face still scrunched up in contemplation. “I’’ll…see what I can do.”

The feeling of relief washed over Connor’s body. He gave Hank a small nod as a _"thanks"_ before the other man walked to stand by the doorway.

“Get some rest, Connor.”

“Androids don’t need rest,” Connor said, with a hint of humour.

“Well, _you_ do. Stay in bed until I get back, I won’t be long.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant,” Connor replied, giving the older man a cheeky smile. It was the same thing he said on their very first case together back in November.

When Hank looked over back at Connor, he shook his head with a soft chuckle before he walked away.

 

* * *

 

Connor didn’t sleep. Or “sleep”. There was no need to go into sleep mode and reboot, his program and his operating systems were all fully functional. The man who fixed him seemed to have resolved any system errors. Except for sensitivity thing, but Connor didn’t complain.

In fact, he savoured every moment of it.

When Hank left, Connor immediately burrowed himself into Hank’s blankets and pillows. He touched and caressed every soft crevasse of the older man’s duvet and smothered his face into Hank’s pillows, even his bare legs were moving under the covers. Connor never even realised how sensitive his legs were until that moment— he loved the feeling of the blankets and the bed covers smoothing against his calves and thighs.

Connor even savoured the feeling of being enveloped by Hank’s oversized sweater, and how the cotton shifted and tightened in some areas whenever he moved.

The more he simmered in bed, the more his mind went into dangerous territory. He was basically in Hank’s bed, smelling Hank’s pillows, and wearing Hank’s sweater in only his underwear.

This was the bed Hank slept in, the place he practically spends hours and hours simmering into; the place he goes to after a long tiring day at work. There were days where he wouldn’t shower and his sweat and muck would stain and dry into the mattress, and in the days where he did, the condensation of his wet hair would be absorbed by the pillows, his soap and shampoo’s scents would ghost over the blankets.

Without even realising it, Connor buried his face into Hank’s pillow, inhaling his scent. He recognised some of the smells he encountered: lemon, maybe mints and oranges, like the one Connor smelled when they were in McDavid’s house. In the midst of all the citric smells, there were a few tangs of musk and sweat. Connor loved it. He loved smelling Hank’s pillow and analysing the little things that made Hank who he was. He added the smallest details into his data base: _Hank uses citrus smelling soaps_.

Connor shifted himself away from the pillows and moved to analyse the bed covers. Hank hadn’t washed the covers in six months, Connor made a note of that to later recommend Hank to wash his bed covers every week. The android would gladly do it for him, but for now, he wanted to indulge himself in Hank’s scents.

He scanned the covers and only found a few traces of sweat and dirt, there were a few strands of stray hair here and there, but other than that, there was nothing else. Surprisingly. Connor suddenly wondered about how Hank slept in his bed. Did he have pyjamas? Did he sleep in his underwear? Naked?

The thought made Connor feel warm. _Too_ warm. His internal temperature was still a bit wonky, but his train of thought didn’t stop there.

Suddenly, Connor began to think about Hank's sex life. How many people did he have sex on this bed? How many drunken fucks has Hank encountered? How many women? Or men, even? Does he even have an active sex life? For a man his age and his profession, it became very clear what the state of Hank’s sex life was when Connor analysed there to be no traces of cum on the sheets— in the past six months at least.

Connor was basically sleeping in the very same place where Hank could have slept naked in or had sex in. The thought sent Connor into overdrive; he was hot. It was all very…erotic.

He felt the shivers and the temperature in his body shift down lower into his abdomen and his crotch, his crotch being an area that he never really paid special attention to. Sure he was equipped with the necessary equipment for the purpose of his model. RK800: the perfect partner (in crime). But CyberLife had the habit of equipping every new android model with “special” tools essential for compatibility and integration, and Connor fell victim as one of those androids.

Connor was modeled and designed to specifically do police work, but he was also sexually compatible—anything to make him the perfect partner. He had a complete set of male genetalia with an anus, which served no real purpose other than sex and cosmetic reasons. They were all pretty null and useless when he was a machine, but now that he was a deviant and his sensitivity scale was racked up, he could defintely feel the extent of their existence.

Thirium was pumping through his cock and it grew harder by the second. It was painful and tense. He needed to relieve the tension.

The moment Connor laid a hand on his erection, all the air was knocked out of his artificial lungs.

It felt…good. Really good. He pressed down harder and he felt electric shocks bolt up his spine, making him arch on the bed.

There was a warning pop up indicating system overheating, but he ignored it. He wanted to feel the electric shock again, so he curiously rubbed his crotch, applying different pressure every single time he stroked the outline of his cock. Bed covers thrown aside, Connor had his legs braced wide open and stroked, and stroked— his legs were quivering as shocks of pleasure went up and down his spine.

The feeling was unlike anything Connor had encountered. His breaths were coming in small puffs and his body was over heating. He chased the feeling, but it wasn’t enough.

Overwhelmed by pleasure, Connor shoved his hand down inside his black underwear and gripped his length, making him whimper. He had no prior knowledge to sexual pleasure, he wasn’t a sex android who was program to know the different ways to stimulate arousal or sexual desire. He just… _knew_ what he was doing. It was like instinct. Machines didn’t have instincts. Machines were programmed in a certain way.

Connor hummed in pleasure as he slowly stroked his cock from the base to the head, feeling certain wetness from the tip of his length. He smeared it around the head and continued to stroke up and down, completely loving the feeling of the electrical shock that was now flowing throughout his whole body.

He wanted more. He _wanted_.

Machines didn’t want anything. Machines didn’t _feel_ anything.

_“Well, what **do** you want?”_

Hank’s voice. Connor remembered when Hank had asked that, and how he so desperately wanted to say: I want you. I want _you_.

“Hank…” the android found himself sighing. He stroked harder, faster. The thought of the older man bounced back into his head. He squeezed his eyes in pleasure and replayed visual recordings of the man in his robe after a shower.

The dampness of his skin, the curly chest hair, he remembered the first night he saw Hank in such a state. Connor wanted to trail his fingers down his hairy chest. What would have happened if he did?

With his hand continuing to stroke up and down his cock, he reconstructed the events in the kitchen that night, and pre-constructed a new scenario in his head.

Hank telling him off for doing house android stuff, but Connor inching closer and closer to the man, ignoring his words. Hank would shut up, surprised and confused with the android’s proximity. Connor would bring both his hands up to the man’s chest, rack up the sensitivity scale in his system, and feel the cotton material of the robe, along with the coarseness of Hank’s chest hair. Hank would softly gasp, his breath would go ragged. Connor would look up and see the man’s half lidded eyes, dazed with desire.

“Connor…” the older man would sigh out, but the android held his gaze, and without another word, he trailed his hands down and untied the robe, revealing all of Hank’s damp, naked body. Connor would have his tongue out and trail it all over Hank’s neck and chest, getting information of Hank’s soaps and sweat.

“Fuck…” Connor released a moan at the thought.

And Hank, who would be completely drunk in lust at the moment, would pull Connor off and force their mouths together. He would rip Connor’s dress shirt off, the button’s popping from the force. He would bite his neck and Connor would throw his head back to groan. Hank would lift him up, grab both Connor’s legs and let them wrap around his waist. They would go to the bedroom.

Connor groaned, releasing his hand from his length and turning around so his stomach laid flat on the bed, and his face in Hank’s pillow, inhaling his scent. He was overheating so much, he thought he was going to combust. Slowly, he grinded his hips down to the mattress and felt the pressure spring more electrical shocks in his body.

With his hand, he trailed it over to his back, down to his artificially, plump ass. Clouded in so much pleasure, Connor didn’t even think when he slipped his hands back down his underwear to trace his ass crack, down to his leaking asshole. He slipped one finger inside.

Hank would fuck him. He’d throw him down on the bed, turn him around, yank down his pants and fuck him real hard and real good. All that pent up rage would be released in the speed of his thrusts, and Connor would cry out loud, both in pain and in pleasure.

“Oh!”

Connor felt release. He slowed down his thrusts into the mattress and turned onto his back. The electrical shocks were slowing down, and his temperature cooled off for a bit. He felt…dazed. Euphoric. Relaxed.

When he went to touch his crotch again, he found it very damp and sticky. Android lubrication, it was used as a substitute for cum.

His system was slowing down, and it was beginning to emulate a different kind of feeling inside his mechanical body: he was tired, overwhelmed. Without having the strength to fight back, Connor felt his eyes close and his body going into sleep mode.

 

* * *

 

When Connor cracked his eyes open, the sun was shining through the bedroom window, illuminating the room.

He checked his internal clock: it was eight am. Pushing himself off the bed, Connor smelled coffee coming from the kitchen. Hank must’ve come home when he was still sleeping last night. He also felt his underwear to be a bit crusty, making him remember the events of last night.

Thinking back now, he felt a little…embarrassed. Embarrassed to have done such a lewd act on Hank’s bed, fantasizing about the older man fucking him into the mattress. Connor buried his face in his hands, ashamed. He knew it was wrong, but fuck did it feel good.

He was disgusted with himself, which was an unexpected turn of emotion coming from lust and pleasure. Emotions were very complex, indeed.

Never the less, he tested his legs and stood up. He knew he wasn’t allowed to walk for a couple of hours more, but it seemed like it didn’t really matter— the plastic solution seemed pretty dry.

In the kitchen, everything was quiet. The couch was in disarray with pillows and blankets everywhere, Sumo was in the corner quietly eating his food, and Hank was on the kitchen table, cup of coffee in hand and his head down. He was staring intently at the pure black liquid in his mug, and would occasionally rub his eyes and scratch his beard. Connor approached him slowly.

It took a while for the older man to sense the android’s presence, but once he did, he stared up and furrowed his brows together, “Dammit Conner, I told you to stay in bed.”

“I didn’t hear you come in last night…” Connor redirected as he sat on the chair across from Hank, feeling small and exposed with no pants on.

Hank just shrugged at him in response, wordless. He avoided eye contact, only looking down at his mug and taking a few sips here and there. Did he know what Connor did in his bed? Did he, somehow, come home early last night without Connor knowing and heard what he was doing? Saw what he was doing?

Coldness settled in the pit of Connor’s stomach and he felt himself tense up. Paranoia. Fear. Shame. All of it was just hitting Connor at the same time.

“So how are you feeling?” Hank suddenly asked, eyeing the android.

Subconsciously, Connor crossed his legs together. “My systems are fully operational. Biocomponents are working properly. But my internal temperature still needs some adjusting, and my sensitivity controls are still irreversible.”

Hank nodded slowly, “That’s good…I guess. You know, expect the sensitivity thing…”

There was silence between them, but it was different. It was awkward. Connor might be over thinking it, but Hank must’ve known. He _must’ve_.

“Did you…” Connor started, but he didn’t know how to follow up the question. _Did you see me last night? Did you know what I did? Did you watch?_

“Did you follow up with McDavid’s android?”

That seemed to have pulled Hank out of an awkward trance. “Oh, yeah. Lucas, he uh… he just told me what I already knew. You were pretty much on the nose on this case.”

“So…did you get in contact with Markus or anyone at all in Jericho?”

Hank looked down at his cup, took a big gulp, and sighed out loud, “The thing is, Connor, he killed a man. McDavid was announced dead this morning in the hospital. And the android laws about guns still are still in place. He broke two laws.”

Connor wanted to bang his fist on the table out of frustration. He let his hands clench tightly instead, “Hank, it was self defence…”

“I know, but we still have to follow current android laws. The new bill is still being constructed, and the senate is still out there discussing things with Markus. It’s all very complicated.”

“Tell them it was my orders! I can take the blame; I don’t care if I get in trouble for it. He did nothing wrong!” Connor suddenly exclaimed, but Hank remained silent, feeling troubled as well as he bowed his head down, thinking.

Connor bit his lip in thought. Sure, he was a police android, programmed specifically to follow and regulate rules and regulations. But this...there was something inside of him that made him prioritise the safety and well-being of this android. Moral objections, he remembered Amanda labelling it. He interfered with Lucas's program and made him go deviant. Really, it was Connor's fault that McDavid died. If it wasn't for him, Connor wouldn't even _be_ here. Lucas did nothing wrong.

Anger. Guilt. Worry. Confusion. Irritation. Scared. Defeated. These emotions kept tugging and tugging Connor's systems.

Slowly, he leaned into the table and tried to get Hank to look at him. “He saved my life, Hank. Let him go, please...”

For the first time since Connor came back, Hank lifted his head and looked at him— _really_ looked at him. Soft blue eyes pierced into warm brown ones; he had his eyebrows slightly furrowed. The way he stared at Connor was…different. It wasn’t cold, or intimidating. He was just…looking at him, eyes curious as he searched something on Connor’s face, thinking. Wondering.

He gave out a sigh.

“One of the police androids said she knew where the new Jericho location was…” Hank carefully told him, “I’ll talk to the department and see if she’ll be able to take him there.”

Relief and joy filled Connor’s chest up. He fought back the urge in his program that told him to lean in and kiss the older man, or to reach out and hold his hand. After the events of last night, he didn't even know if he could stop himself from doing so. One little move might just make his fantasies come true. But instead, he settled into a smile—a soft smile, a _real_ smile.

“Hank…thank you.”

Upon seeing his smile, Hank turned away from him and stood up, “I better get ready. It’s going to be a long day today.”

Sad that the moment has passed, Connor looked up at him from the chair, “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re staying here,” Hank firmly said, “I know your systems are working and all, but you still need time to stabilise. The last thing we want is another android combustion case.”

Connor didn’t have enough time to argue; Hank quickly went into his room, changed into his clothes, and headed straight to the door. “It’s going to be a long day, I might come home late. We’re going to see this Zlatko guy too, and finally take him in.”

At the door, Sumo chased him and sniffed his feet. Hank just looked down and gave him a small pat on the head, before heading out, “I’ll see you later, tonight.”

And with that, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it only gets dirtier here folks. also, excuse the unnecessarily complex/convoluted way of fixing up a damaged android, there's a reason for that ok pls bear with me
> 
> comments and kudos will be loved tyvm <3


	4. Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it gets dirtier. Also remember how I said it's only up to 6 chapters? I lied. It's up to 8 now (I'm sorry)
> 
> I gotta say, I'm glad I got so much support for the choice of having Zlatko alive in this fic, because i think we all know what happens to a certain happy trio if Zlatko was still alive (and for that, i'm sorry again. it's part of the redemption arc I promise)
> 
> but hey, i hope you guys still enjoy this fic anyway :P despite the fact that it's tackling not only one, but two unusual/rare endings now haha

Connor returned to the bedroom after Hank left. His crusty underwear was beginning to bother him, so he reluctantly took a peak at Hank’s closet and hoped the older man wouldn’t mind.

Hank didn’t really have anything with Connor’s size; everything in the closet was huge and tacky. There were only four clean button up shirts hanging in the closet, most of his clothes were unwashed and crumpled on the floor in the corner of the room. Maybe that was Connor’s task today: do laundry.

He opened a drawer and found boxers, unfolded and strewn out together. They were mostly clean, and the dirty ones remained on the floor with the rest of Hank's dirty laundry. With careful fingers, Connor dug through the drawer to try to find one that was small enough for him, but there wasn’t any. He held up one that looked the smallest, but judging by its size, it would still hang low on Connor’s waist. Not good enough.

Before Connor put them back in the drawer, he held it in his hands and felt the soft fabric brush against the pads of his fingers. He curiously stretched some areas of the boxers just to see it move against his hands. He briefly wondered how many times Hank had worn the underwear.

Feeling a hot surge enter through his body again, he set the boxers back inside the drawer and search for the most worn out boxers that Hank has. The striped one. Connor held it delicately in his hands and analysed it: the leg holes were stretched out, the elastic band was slightly loose, and there were small holes littering at the crotch spot.

Curious, Connor slid a finger inside one of the holes and felt around the fabric from the inside: the inside was softer.

What was he doing? He shouldn’t be doing this, riffling through Hank’s clothes and tampering with his underwear. Yet, he couldn’t stop. It was like last night: he knew it was wrong to pleasure himself on Hank’s bed. It was _so_ wrong… but the adrenaline, the electricity flowing through his systems…

He loved it. He desired it.

Desire. It was a strange emotion.

He couldn’t stop himself, he wanted more. More electricity, more pleasure, more of _Hank_.

He couldn’t stop the wave of thoughts surging into his brain. All of the sudden he was thinking about Hank and how often Hank had worn those boxers. How his cock would lay still inside, relaxed. Without another thought, Connor held the fabric opened and analysed the interior, analysing every crevice, looking for something. _Anything_. A stain. A hair. A skin follicle.

Connor turned the underwear inside out and inhaled it. Inhaled the hem, the crotch area, everything. His body was warming up again, and he felt himself stiffen in his own underwear.

He wanted all of Hank. The unfiltered, rawness of the man. His musk. His dirt. So Connor stuck his tongue out and licked. And licked. And licked the inside of the underwear.

And then he felt something touch his leg.

Startled, he looked down and saw Sumo, nudging him from the floor with his nose, inevitably snapping Connor out of his lustful trance. The dog had followed him into the bedroom after Hank had left.

When Connor stared back at the underwear, he dropped it from his hands as if it offended him.

God, what was he _doing_?

Connor suddenly felt horrified of himself. Ashamed. Guilty. Embarrassed.

_Disgusted._

He wanted to hide from the world again.

Slowly, he composed himself and picked up the underwear he dropped, set it back inside the drawer and hid it at the very bottom.The thought of wearing Hank’s underwear made him feel…weirdly hot inside. It wan an enticing feeling, but it also felt really _wrong._ It was a messy feeling, he wanted to avoid it as much as he could, so he distracted himself by picking up all of Hank’s dirty laundry and putting them in a hamper. He even changed the sheets to wash the ones he soiled himself on.

In the laundry room, Connor had no other choice but to strip his only underwear off and included it in the machine, leaving him wearing absolutely nothing but Hank’s sweater—it was big enough to cover his crotch area, so if Hank ever came home early, he wouldn’t really notice. Unless the sweater lifts up.

He just hoped the older man wouldn’t come home before the laundry was done.

 

* * *

 

Hank didn’t come home before the laundry was done.

Connor finished and folded most of Hank’s clothes, and re-wore his now clean underwear while doing so.

There really was nothing much to do in the house; it was still relatively tidy from the last time Connor cleaned it. The fridge was full of food and Sumo already had his walk. It was eight pm when Connor just sat down on the couch and watched TV, completely bored.

The TV was showing reruns of an old sitcom way back in the 90’s. It was showing a dilemma between a man and his ex-wife. They were divorced, but they have a son. The man was not married, but the woman was—she’s married to another woman. The relationship portrayal of both women was, for the most part, positive, but it was played in such a way that it inevitably became a running gag in the show, even fetishized at times. Themes of same sex marriage and same sex relationship was portrayed a bit too stereotypical and shallow in the 90's.

It made Connor wonder about the evolution of humanity, and how humans would always try to make fun of something that was different from them. If they weren’t trying to make fun of them, they would express it in violence, hatred. Gender, ethnicity, sexuality, religion—there would always be something to complain about. Humans never changed.

But they could adapt. Nowadays, when someone made fun of someone else’s sexual preferences (like in the show), they would get shut down immediately: discrimination was not tolerated. So it only made sense that with some time, android life would be treated in the same light. Thanks to Markus, they mattered just as much as human lives now.

Connor thought back to Markus and began to wonder what would have happened if he _did_ accept his offer. What if he became a deviant earlier and joined him? Would the revolution be different? Would his relationship with Hank be different? Would he be with Markus right now, at this very second, and help plan the next step towards android acceptance? Would Connor have played a bigger role?

The android curled up further into the couch at the thought. Regret. All he could feel was pure regret. He should’ve joined. He never should’ve listened to Amanda or listened to his instructions. If he joined, he would’ve become a hero. He would’ve joined Markus and his friends. He would be welcomed. He would feel like he _finally_ belonged somewhere in the world.

But no, he didn’t. Instead he was here. Feeling sorry for himself. Alone. Hated. Despised by the deviants for betraying his own people.

All he had now was Hank, and even he screwed that up.

_“You’re a lowlife!  You don’t feel a thing. You’re just a machine, that’s what you are. You’re just a fucking machine!”_

_“Of course I’m a machine, Lieutenant. What did you think I was?”_

_“I thought you…I thought…”_

Connor wanted to curl up again and self-destruct. He never should’ve uploaded his memory. He should’ve just died in Jericho and be done with the world.

In the middle of his internal monologue, he suddenly heard a car pull up the drive way. When Hank opened the door, Sumo immediately greeted him with his tail wagging.

“Down, boy…” Hank told him as he entered, and Connor stood up from the couch, eager to greet him too.

“So what happened at work?” Connor directly asked.

Hank just shook his head and sighed at Connor as he hung his coat up, “I just got home, kid. Let me settle in first.”

After changing into more comfortable clothes, Hank grabbed some left over pizza in the fridge and settled down into the couch with a plate.

The older man explained that, after some really intense convincing, the department finally granted him permission to transfer Lucas to Jericho. The android was scheduled to be transferred the next day, with authorization from Hank and Captain Fowler.

“You happy now?” Hank jokingly said as he bit into his pizza.

“Very. Thank you, Hank.” the android replied, with the most sincere expression. He was more than happy, really.

Connor idled in his little corner of the couch while Hank sat on the other end, watching a basketball game as he finished his pizza.

“How did it go with the Zlatko raid?”

Eyes still on the tv screen, Hank swept off some pizza crumbs and shrugged, “It went as expected. I had backup just in case things went wrong. I mean, the guy lived in a creepy mansion. He put up with a bit of a fight but it wasn’t too brutal, some of the other guys knocked him out before he could run away.”

The older man went to look over at Connor, and leaned back on the couch, his expression forlorn. Connor watched his every move. Hank's face still had some small cuts here and there, some from yesterday others from today (probably from the Zlatko raid. The big bruise on his head from McDavid's fight was finally stitched up, but the harsh red line was hidden underneath Hank's silver hair.

“There…There were a bunch of mutilated androids inside his place…his basement especially…” Hank grumbled. He brought both of his hands up and rubbed his face, suddenly remembering the sight of the broken and defaced androids, limping and moaning inside the mansion in distorted voices, “God, I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight after seeing those poor guys…”

“He was torturing them?” Connor questioned.

“Seems like it. He wouldn’t confess to anything, he just pled guilty. I mean, everything inside his mansion speaks for itself anyways. As for the disfigured androids, since there were so many of them, the department sent them off to CyberLife to make sure they all get fixed up and released immediately afterwards. You know... in case they try anything shady. The corporation is _still_ under investigation, after all.”

Hank recomposed himself and took another sip of his drink.

“When we got there, there were two other androids on the scene that weren’t completely broken. One was a big, bulky male android and a female house android. We didn’t know what else to do with them, but they’re in the precinct for now, just in case they were involved in anything.”

“I’ll interrogate them both and see if they know anything about Zlatko’s affiliates. If he _has_ any affiliates, that is,” Connor said, “We need to figure out if this is a chain of people. McDavid did the same thing; it could be a whole organization. We have to follow up with all the androids Zlatko’s sold and all the people he’s kept in touch with. I’ll come in tomorrow morning and see if I can follow it all up.”

Hank shook his head, “No you’re not. You’re staying here; I’ll interrogate them and follow up the case myself.”

The android’s face suddenly dropped, “What do you mean I’m staying here?”

The older man didn’t say anything. Wordless, he collected his empty plates and cans and walked into the kitchen, leaving Connor hanging with his question.

Coldness settled into Connor’s stomach again. “Hank… I’m coming back to work.”

“No, you’re not.”

The coldness spread into Connor’s spine. He quickly stood up from his position on the couch and followed Hank into the kitchen. The older man was setting his dishes onto the sink when Connor cornered him, “What’s going on? Why are you not letting me back to work?”

He didn’t answer him. As a distraction, Hank opened the tap and started to wash his dishes. He rarely washed the dishes.

Silence settled between them, the only thing that would occasionally break it was the clattering of the plates and the sound of the water running. Why wasn’t he being allowed back? Was he off the force? He couldn’t be. It was the only thing Connor was looking forward to—the only thing Connor could do to be able to redeem himself from what he’s done. Hank couldn’t just take that away from him.

“Hank…I’m fine. I can go back to work. My systems are fully functional, my temperature settings have stabilised. I’m ready to go back. I don’t see the issue here…”

With a loud bang, Hank let the dishes dry on the rack and finally turned to look at Connor, his eyes angry, “Fuck, Connor, you died there. Died. Do you even understand what that means?”

This again.

“I do. But I’m okay now and I’m fine. My parts have been fixed—”

“What if you never came back, huh? And what if it happens again?”

“Then it’s a risk I have to take!” Connor reasoned, feeling frustrated, “It could’ve happen to anyone, Hank. Not just me, and you know that. At the end of the day, I’m glad it was me and not you… I’m just a machine, I could be—”

“You know what? Fuck you,” Hank suddenly hissed, moving away from Connor and stomping out of the kitchen. But Connor, filled with so much anger and frustration, he gripped Hank’s arm to face him again.

“I’ve died before, Hank. I’ll be okay,” the android firmly said.

Hank scrunched his face up, confused and angry, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“In Jericho. When I raided the boat, the deviant leader was going to detonate the explosive in the hold. He shot me before I could stop him.”

All of the sudden Hank’s face fell. He wretched his arm away from Connor’s grip and looked at him, horrified, “What are you saying?”

“The Connor model that you first met is dead. CyberLife transferred my memory into a new model to replace it.”

“Good God…” Hank muttered, completely at lost for words. He was slowly inching away from Connor, staring at him with an expression of pure dread and horror, “You’re not…”

Connor let his own face fall in panic—his LED at the side of his head heavily spinning in red. Hank was distancing himself from him, completely horrified of the thought that he might’ve just opened his door to a stranger who looked like his partner. But he wasn’t a stranger. It was him. The same Connor who bothered him at Jimmy’s bar the first time they met.

“It’s still me, Hank…” Connor tried to say, his voice faltering, scared that he might’ve just screwed everything up now completely by revealing his previous death, “I’m… I’m still the same Connor. Believe me, please.”

Hank’s expression dropped into a frown, and he looked at the android with such an expression that Connor has never seen before. It was…sadness, irritation, and confusion all at the same time.

Connor continued, approaching Hank slowly, “I just… I just wanted to say that I can deal with it. The damage. I can easily be fixed; my parts would just be replaced. I’m expendable, it’s what I’m made to do. So why aren’t you letting me back on the force?”

The older man bowed his head down and tried to turn away from Connor, their proximity was making him uncomfortable.

“Goddammit, do you really want me to say it?” he angrily hissed under his breath. Suddenly, his head snapped up, expression angry yet…vulnerable, “Because I care about you for Christ sake!”

The declaration took Connor by surprise. He was still in the middle of processing what Hank had said when the older man angrily shoved him back.

“Is that what you ‘wanna hear, huh?! Are you happy now? Fuck you.”

Another shove back.

“Does it feel good? Seeing a pathetic piece of shit like me say that to your face? Knowing that someone actually gives a shit about you? Does it make you feel happy?!”

Another shove back, his voice was slightly breaking.

“You keep saying you’re expendable—that you don’t matter. That you’re just a machine. Fuck you.”

Another shove back.

“What’s gonna happen if you shut down again, huh? CyberLife will send me a new Connor? Is that it, huh? Just a machine replacing another machine?”

Another shove back, but the android couldn’t go back any further into the kitchen. His hips hit the edge of the kitchen counter; Hank was looming over him with a finger jabbing at his chest.

“You’re not _just_ a fucking machine, Connor. You’re…you’re…” he faltered, eyes softening.

Hank’s hand suddenly dropped from Connor’s chest and let it clench at his side, as if he was ready to punch the android. But his muscles relaxed and his blood pressure gradually slowed down. Hank let his eyes drift away from Connor and down onto his feet, suddenly sad and ashamed of himself.

“…I can’t…I can’t lose…” he trailed off, muttering under his breath.

And Connor, he was experiencing ten different emotions at the same time, the most prominent ones being: concern, care, love. It left an aching feeling in his mechanical body, his chest was beginning to hurt from processing way too many emotions. So he remained quiet.

Instead of saying anything, he reached out and touched Hank, carefully cupping the side of his face so they could look at each other.

But Hank was stubborn, and tried to turn his face away from Connor’s gentle hands. Connor, however, was eager and determined. He lifted both hands now and carefully, he held Hank’s face and made him look up at him. They were so close together, Connor could practically feel Hank’s warm breath on his own face.

Hank’s eyes, they were glassy under the kitchen lights. Sad. Resigned. He looked like he had just given up on the world, but Connor held his gaze.

Both his hands cupped the older man’s jaw, and he felt the grizzles of his beard. With his thumb, he carefully stroked his cheek—brushing a few scratches and moving around a few strands of beard hair. The act made Hank suck in a small breath, and Connor’s thirium regulator was pumping _fast._ The system warning pop ups were going up left and right.

Connor wanted to—… but…was it logical? Will it affect anything? Will it affect his relationship with Hank at all? Screw it up even more?

No. Don't think, Connor told himself. Just...just-!

Throwing caution into the wind, Connor leaned up at Hank and pecked his lips. Just a peck. Nothing else.

The action made the other man gasp softly in surprise. But he didn’t pull away. Connor could sense his heart beating incredibly fast, and the skin on his face heating up.

Maybe lips were too soon, maybe Connor should’ve started somewhere safer. So he went up and pecked his cheeks instead. Both of them, one by one. He kissed his bruises. And then his frown lines. And then his eyelids. And then his beard. It was all very slow—very sensual. During all of this, Hank remained silent, reluctant, and unresponsive, but his heart kept beating faster and faster.

Connor went on to kiss the tip of his nose, and traced his lips back to where he started. He tried again, and pecked Hank on the lips. And then again. And then again, prolonging the length of the kiss each time, until he closed his eyes and fully locked lips with him—until he was _kissing_ him.

Kissing Hank.

Connor suddenly felt his programming go haywire and his systems heat up. He was actually kissing Hank.

Hank was still unresponsive. Slowly, Connor eased the man into the kiss, carefully moving his lips against him and just nibbling on his bottom lip. A few moments later, he felt the older man’s lips move—just slightly, until he started to lose himself into the kiss.

A deep sigh escaped Hank. The tension in his body suddenly dissipated.

Warm, rough hands slowly came up to hold Connor’s waist, and Connor could instantly feel the heat of his touch through his briefs.

When Hank slowly pulled away to catch his breath, Connor thought the moment was over— that he was just going to pull away, horrified at what the android had insinuated. But no, he just looked down at Connor and stared at him with his lips red and wet, and his eyes half lidded and clear. Shining even.

Hank had beautiful eyes. Hank was _beautiful_.

Everything was snapping into place. Hank’s proximity, the way his body was radiating heat. Hank’s hands, and how they were perfectly placed on Connor’s hips. And Hank’s face, and how he was just staring at Connor with those eyes, gleaming, and his warm breath hovering over Connor’s lips. Waiting. Just waiting.

Connor didn’t want to keep him waiting. The circuits in his body were overflowing with love, desire, and lust.

He _wanted_.

In a snap, Connor pulled him back into a searing kiss—filled with passion this time. His hands roamed up and down Hank’s chest, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt and the heat of his body.

Hank’s hands, tentative, started to move up Connor’s sides, rubbing small circles on his hipbones with his thumb. In the heat of the moment, he let his hands slip underneath Connor’s sweatshirt and let them rest on the android’s small back, bare skin touching soft synthetic skin. Hank’s warm hands made Connor openly moan in the kiss; the android felt his own artificial cock growing hard the more Hank let his hands wander around underneath his shirt.

Tongues slipped into mouths, and Connor made his brush against Hank’s hot and wet ones—the older man groaned. His hands slipped from Connor’s small back down to his ass, and briefly making the older man wonder why in hell’s name did CyberLife give Connor such a great ass.

In a quick motion, he lifted the android up the counter and pressed their bodies together, catching Connor off guard and briefly breaking the kiss. Instantly, he gripped Hank’s long, grey hair, and pulled their lips back together, his bare legs wrapping around the older man’s hips.

They rocked into each other’s body, their crotches touching, rubbing together and feeling each other’s hard lengths. The only thing separating them was their boxers. The act made Connor pull out from the kiss to let a shaky breath out—it was all too much. Hank latched his lips onto Connor’s neck and began to suck and bite as he continued to grind their hips together. Connor was feeling even more electrical shocks around his body than he did last night. His body was heating up fast.

“H-Hank…” he sighed into Hank’s ear, legs tightening around his hips and arms coming to wrap around his shoulders.

Hank seemed to have gotten the message.

With unexpected strength, he lifted Connor off of the kitchen counter and sauntered together into the bedroom.

It’s happening— Connor’s head started to spin at the thought of what was about to unfold.

In the dimly lit bedroom, Hank carefully laid Connor down onto the bed and hovered over him to observe the android. Kneeling back to stare at him, Connor practically looked like he was straight from a pornographic magazine: hair slightly dishevelled—curling at the edges even, Hank’s faded Detroit Police Academy sweater racked up to reveal a sliver of flawless skin, and legs, completely hairless and smooth, spread wide to entice the older man to touch.

“God, Connor…” Hank breathed out, stroking his long legs up and down as he continued to stare. The android whimpered in response.

Eager and clouded with lust, Connor tried to wiggle himself out of the sweater, lifting it up to reveal his perfectly toned torso, littered with beauty marks. When Hank helped him out of his sweater and threw it in the corner of the room, he gaped at Connor even more.

He had nipples. The guys at Cyber Life really _did_ think of everything.

Unresisting, Hank’s hands came to stroke Connor’s bare torso, his fingers brushing the android’s realistically perky nipples, making Connor hold back a moan. Hank suddenly came down and mouthed one of the nubs, and the android threw his head back in pleasure. His body was heating up so much, at this point, he might actually just combust.

The older man kissed and trailed his lips down Connor’s body—paying special attention to his navel—and continued until he reached the bulge in the android’s pants, mouthing it with his hot wet mouth.

“O-Off…” Connor managed to whimper out, “Take them off, please… I just washed them…”

Hank released a small chuckle before helping Connor out of his underwear, finally revealing the android in all of his naked glory—black pubes littered his crotch area, and his cock perfectly toned and proportioned, curling up on his stomach. It was even leaking at the tip. Without another thought, Connor watched as Hank licked at the slit, gathering the android lubricant solution on his tongue.

Connor groaned loudly as he wrapped his legs around Hank’s shoulders, urging him for more. So Hank continued to lick a few stripes up and down Connor’s shaft, mouthed the tip—God, it felt so real. Everything about Connor just felt so real: his soft heated skin, his lips, and his cock. Hank just couldn’t resist everything.

The android felt the older man nose his pubes, pressing a wet kiss on his balls and the base of his shaft. And then he inhaled, trying to get a whiff of Connor’s scent. Sadly, he didn’t really smell like anything. He smelled clean, but it might’ve been the scent of his recently laundered underwear.

Connor looked down and licked his lips as he watched Hank appreciate his body. Just seeing the older man there, settled in between his legs, with Connor completely naked and exposed, almost made the android short circuit. Was this actually happening? Connor couldn’t believe it. Just last night, he fantasized about this happening on this very bed, and now here they were…

Suddenly, Hank’s tongue began to prod at Connor’s furled and leaking hole, sending the android into overdrive. Internal fans were working overtime to keep the internal temperature down, but it was all too much, especially since his body temperature was still slightly unstable. Connor just moaned in response. Androids didn’t sweat, but he knew if he did, his entire body would be glistening.

The older man continued to lick the pad of his tongue on Connor’s hole, trying to taste him, or rather taste the lubricant leaking out of him. It was slightly sweet and salty. And with that thought it mind, he slipped his tongue inside of the android’s asshole and continued to move his tongue around the interior, curious, wet and incredibly hot.

“O-Oh fuck! Hank…” Connor heavily panted, trying to control the internal fans inside his systems. He was so overwhelmed by the feeling of everything; he could _actually_ shut down on the spot.

But then Hank pulled his tongue out and replaced it with a finger, which felt incredibly different from Connor’s own fingers. Hank’s fingers were thicker, and rougher, and they felt smooth going inside the android. His fingers began to probe around the pleasure plates inside Connor’s asshole, programmed to bring strong pleasure shocks into the android’s body.

When Hank managed to find the pleasure plates, Connor moaned aloud and arched off the bed.

“Shit! Oh my God…Hank…”

Hank repeated the action, adding another finger in the hole, and continually brushing his fingers against those plates until Connor couldn’t take it anymore and came all over his stomach. Spurts of android lubricant striped a mess across Connor’s torso, making the android heave in relief. He closed his eyes for a second, letting his body come down from a high and cool off.

A few seconds later, when he opened his eyes again he saw Hank, still settled between his legs, kneeling up and palming himself with his eyes raking over Connor’s body. With a nudge of his leg and an arm reaching out, Connor begged him to climb up closer onto his body so he could see him.

Wordlessly, Hank scooted up on Connor’s body and settled his knees on either side of the android’s torso, hands still eagerly palming the bulge in his pants as he stared at Connor’s face.

Connor’s hands came up to Hank’s waist, and pulled at the waistband of his underwear. “I want to see, Hank…”

The older man hummed deeply in response, his voice rough and gravely, “Fuck, Connor…”

Together, they pulled down Hank’s underwear to reveal his huge cock, incredibly red, hard and heavily leaking with precum. When they pulled Hank’s underwear down as far as they could, Connor caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. A tattoo. Hank had a tattoo at the top of his thigh, hidden in his boxers. Not even thinking about it, Connor touched it in awe, caressed it even.

Almost instantly, Hank brought his hand back onto his cock and stroked in a vigorous motion as Connor stared up at him, and then stared down at his cock again, just watching as the older man brought himself to his climax.

“Come on my face, Hank…”

Hank groaned at the statement. “O-Oh…fuck. Fuck! Fuck!”

Thick white spurts started to splatter onto Connor’s chest, face and neck. It was a string of spurts, seemingly never ending. Connor absolutely loved the feeling of Hank’s cum on his chest and face, burning hot. When a strip landed on his lips, he licked it off, tasting Hank and getting data analysis on him.

The older man stroked the last drop on Connor, and looked down at him, completely covered in stripes of cum. He groaned at the sight and smeared some the white residue on Connor’s chest, seeing it glisten and making the android’s skin gleaming wet.

Exhausted, he fell next to Connor and heaved until he caught his breath.

Both of them, just staring onto the bedroom ceiling and panting.

“Are…are you alright?” he heard Hank ask from his side. Connor only managed to nod.

“That was…amazing,” Connor breathed out, closing his eyes in bliss. His chest felt so big—he was so happy. He turned to wrap an arm around Hank and rested his head on the older man’s chest, just holding him, feeling his warmth.

He felt his system slowing down; he was going into sleep mode again. His body was ready to rest so it could be able repair and fix all of the system errors that popped up during sex, and the android let it happen.

The last thing Connor felt before fully going into stasis was the sheets, carefully wiping his face, neck and body. 

 

* * *

 

Connor woke up alone.

He checked his internal clock and noted that it was two am. Hank was no where to be found in bed.

When Connor reached his hands out, he gripped nothing but air. The warm body that he remembered wrapping his arms around, resting his head on, was gone. His internal temperature was abnormally cold, a sudden contrast to the extreme heat he generated during a night of passion, perfectly reflecting his state of mind.

Slowly, he lifted himself up from his position and looked around the room: darkness enveloped it, the door was closed and curtains drawn. Connor’s hair was incredibly unruly, revealing the curls on his head. With a hand, he tried to comb it through his hair and analysed the room for any signs of the older man.

So far, the only signs in the room were the older man’s semen dried onto the blankets, but other than that, nothing. Connor came up to the corner of the bed, checked the floor and only found his own discarded clothes: Hank’s DPA sweater and his (clean) black boxers.

In the small crack of the curtains, he noticed Hank’s car in the driveway was missing. Of course it was.

As for Connor, he just felt…he didn't know how to feel. He felt nothing. Emptiness. Darkness. Coldness.

Did his system break? Everything just felt…meaningless all of the sudden.

For a few seconds there, Connor just sat on the bed and stared into the darkness.

He was still naked, and a few traces of semen were still stuck on his chest. Mindlessly, he let his hand wander over his body and tried to remember the events of last night

It felt like a distant memory—a dream (if he only knew how dreams worked). When he looked into the older man’s eyes last night, everything seemed so clear. A moment was shared between them, and all of the sudden it was like nothing else mattered in the world. A moment of solace, peace, and euphoria enveloped both of them, and they savoured every breath, every touch, and every taste of each other.

It took a certain level of vulnerability to be that compliant and submissive to lust and desire, and Connor let himself drown in the moment. Never, in his entire existence, had he felt so open and exposed to anyone. Sure, he’d probably been poked by the mechanics at CyberLife, but this was different. He was _emotionally_ vulnerable. 

He let Hank touch him, kiss him, and hold him. He let Hank see just how vulnerable he could be—how easily he could have been taken advantage of, how easily he could have been humiliated and hurt. Hank, his tongue, his hands, and his voice, and the way he touched and caressed Connor’s body. It was with so much care— so much love.

But just like a fleeting dream, he was gone the next second. His warmth and touch haunted Connor. The android wanted it again. Wanted. Craved. Needed. But the older man chose to let Connor suffer in silence— in misery.

Was that what it was? Misery? Feeling empty? Dead?

The thought of Hank dismissing Connor right after the android had opened himself to the older man like that left Connor’s thirium running cold. His body ached—his chest ached with a seering pain. Was something wrong with his regulator?

Looking down at his own body and seeing how he had wrapped himself in Hank’s sheets, naked and exposed, made him feel…used. He knew it wasn’t the right word, Hank would never use him like that…right? But then again, after everything’s Connor has done, it shouldn’t really surprise him. An eye for an eye: you hurt me, I hurt you. It was usually how the world worked.

It was a sad reality, and it was hard for Connor to take it in, but in the end, he probably deserved it. He would do whatever it takes to redeem himself, right? And that included this. If Hank wanted to hurt him…he could. Connor needed to accept that.

So…why couldn’t he?

System warnings were popping up, biocomponents were behaving irregularly and everything just _ached_. He felt like he was tearing at the seams, like his insides were being ripped open and torn to shreds.

Heartbreak. He hated it.

He wanted it to stop—he wanted some sort of release. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around himself, curled up, and hoped it would stop. He begged it to stop. But it wasn’t. He was burning inside, but it was a different burn. It _hurt_. Everything hurt. The thought of Hank _leaving_ him hurt.

In some sort of attempt to make it better, Connor squeezed his eyes and gritted his teeth, and like his prayers were answered, the ache was beginning to melt away. He reached up his face and felt his eyes, wet and dripping with some sort of fluid. Water. Tears.

Machines didn’t cry.

Connor opened his eyes and wiped away his tears with the blankets. It was pathetic. He shouldn’t be crying, for god’s sake. He was a machine built to solve crimes and kill. He should pick his shit up and fix his problems.

Showing weakness and vulnerability were all very human. It was progress, yes, but he wasn’t going anywhere if he just sat there and cried his eyes out until something happened. He needed to know how to fix it, how to get over it. It was a learning curb. So he analysed his entire situation and looked at it at a detective’s perspective.

Loneliness, sadness, and heartbreak: they were all the root of his misery. He needed something—or someone—to counter those emotions. And all he could think about was one person.

 

**Objective: Find Hank Anderson**

 

* * *

 

The “No Androids Allowed” sign was gone at Jimmy’s bar. It was the least they could do after the revolution.

Connor exited his taxi and let his nice, dress shoes scrunch up on the snow as he walked towards the bar. He really didn’t have anything else to wear, the only clothes he had on him was his CyberLife uniform, and now, Hank’s sweater. In an attempt to make himself look presentable, he decided to just wear Hank’s sweater with the black slacks and the black dress shoes CyberLife has given to him.

His uniform was neatly folded in the corner of the chair at Hank’s bedroom when he found them, and while they were still relatively clean, the dress pants he wore had a punctured hole at the thigh area (from the bullets, Connor thought).

But looks weren’t really Connor’s concern. He was out here to find Hank.

It was approximately three am when the android entered the bar.

There were still patrons there, quietly drinking in the corner of their booths and having intimate conversations with their partners and their friends. When the door opened, everyone briefly looked over their shoulders to see who had walked in, before going back into their conversations.

He remembered the first time he entered Jimmy’s Bar. Connor could still feel the ghost of their eyes boring on the back of his head like a laser, getting ready to shoot him. Mumbles of insults floated around in the air, and sneers were being directed towards him. But now, there seemed to be...a little less of that. Sure, he would still get a nasty look once in a while, but it was crazy to think that a month before, he would’ve possibly been killed on the spot for simply entering a bar that didn’t allow androids in.

Connor walked and scanned around the bar for any signs of Hank, but the older man was no where to be seen.

“Excuse me, do you know where Hank is?” he asked Jimmy Peterson when he approached the bar counter, “Hank Anderson?”

Jimmy merely shrugged as he continued to wipe down the counter table, “Sorry, man. I saw him a week ago, but he hasn’t been here for the last couple of days.”

Connor just sighed in defeat.

“You look like you had a rough night…” Jimmy suddenly said, “'You Hank’s android?”

The android reluctantly nodded. “I’m his partner.”

Partner meant a lot of things, Connor just realised. He suddenly felt his face heat up in embarrassment, he wanted to take his words back but it was too late. The bartender was already eyeing him up, slowly taking in what the android just said.

Thankfully, Jimmy just nodded, as if he automatically understood what Connor had meant. “Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you. Hank- he talks a lot, you know?”

The phrase sent both a warm feeling in Connor’s gut and a cold jolt down his spine. Hank talked about him. In a good way or a bad way? Never the less, it made the android stiffen in his posture.

“Do you know any other bar he’d be in?”

Jimmy shrugged, “Not that I know.”

Connor stared around the bar again to think. Other than bars, where would Hank go? Go to be alone? Go to be one with his thoughts?

Suddenly, there was only one other place that went into Connor’s mind.

“I know it’s none of my business,” the bartended suddenly interjected, “but whatever is going on between you two, I hope it works out.”

The android quirked his head at the statement, urging Jimmy to explain what he meant.

“These past few days, I’ve been noticing a change in Hank,” the bartender continues, rearranging the bottles behind the counter, “he doesn’t get shit-faced as much as he used to anymore. I don’t want to assume, but…”

He didn’t need to say more. Connor understood. For a split second there, he felt his chest go warm at the thought of Hank.

“I know,” Connor simply said, his voice soft, “I hope it all works out too…”

 

* * *

 

There was more snow in the park than Connor remembered there to be. It might’ve been because it was the first week of December, winter had finally taken its toll and Christmas was on the horizon.

Amidst all the white snow, came in sight a black, sleek vintage car parked near the playground area, the hula girl on the dashboard stood still in its place. When Connor approached the car, he wiped down the windows and took a peek inside to see if the older man was there. He wasn’t, but there were faded footprints that led up to the bench further into the park.

There he was. Hank, peacefully sitting on one of the benches with his shoulders hunched forward.

Connor, despite feeling happy to be relieved of his stress and loneliness, decided to approach the man carefully, in slow footsteps.

Hank was covered in snow, there were flakes starting to build up on his grey hair and his black coat, contrasting and complimenting his forlorn posture. He didn’t have a drink with him, which took Connor by surprise. Instead, he had a cigarette between his fingers.

Quietly, Connor walked and stood by the side of the bench and hoped the older man could sense his presence. It wasn’t immediate, he saw Hank slowly turn his head to acknowledge him. But he just stared at Connor’s profile before turning back to look at the view before him.

Hank then slowly scooted to the centre of the bench with his cigarette in hand, silent, almost like he was suggesting Connor to sit down next to him. So that was what Connor did.

His broken sensitivity settings affected his cold sensitivity, and because of that, the android was beginning to feel the cold winds blowing in the winter air. He really should’ve layered more clothes, but he left in a hurry. He just wanted to find Hank—see Hank.

With his head turned to look at him, Connor watched as the older man stared dead into space, his eyes half lidded and tired, and his cigarette slowly burning through the tobacco. Wordlessly, he brought the stub up to his lips and inhaled.

“I didn’t know you smoke…” Connor started.

As if on cue, the older man choked out a cough as the cigarette retreated from his lips. “I don’t.”

“So why start now?”

The older man just shrugged his shoulders as he looked at the burning stub between his fingers, “I’ve been trying to quit drinking. But...things aren't just as simple as that, right? I, uh... I needed something else—something that would still slowly kill me… ”

Hurt. Sadness. Conner was experiencing these things all over again. He was proud, yes. Proud that Hank decided to take some initiative to further improve his lifestyle habits by withdrawing from alcohol, but upon that sacrifice come another; a bad habit after another bad habit. It wasn’t healthy for Hank to destroy his liver, but it also wasn’t healthy for him to destroy his lungs.

Connor kept his mouth shut anyway; he was in no position to tell Hank what not to do. Not right now, at least.

“Sorry for uh, leaving you there…” Hank chided with a soft voice as he inhaled his cig, “I needed to think.”

The android wanted to say a lot of things:

_“It’s okay Hank.”_

_“I understand.”_

_“It scared me.”_

_“I thought I did something wrong.”_

But Connor remained quiet. He wanted the silence to sink in.

“Have you ever done anything like that before?” the older man continued. He turned his face to finally look at Connor, “You know…sex?”

The words rang in Connor’s head like a bell. Images started to flash before his eyes: his hand on his cock, his hips rutting against Hank’s bed, a slender finger inside him, Hank’s fingers inside him, Hank’s mouth, Hank’s tongue.

“Sort of…” was all he could manage to say, feeling the thirium rush fast in his system, and his face heating irregularly, “But…nothing like that, no.”

“Sort of?” Hank repeated, suddenly intrigued, “What do you mean? When?”

“A few nights ago,” the android explained, looking away from Hank to stare at his shoes in embarrassment, “I...experimented. A little. I tried to pleasure myself on your bed while you were away.”

Secrets. Connor never really knew how to handle them, but opening up about his lewd act on the older man’s bed seemed to have lessened the emotional pressure he had pent up inside of him. Telling the truth felt good.

“But other than that, no. You were the first.”

“Jesus…” he heard Hank mumble to himself as he took another long whiff of his stub, “you’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

Connor smirked at the phrase, scooting closer to the man but still kept a reasonable distance between them. He watched Hank blow out smoke from his lips before the older man began to speak again.

“Did you…” he started again, clearing his throat and looking down at the lit up cigarette. The tips of his ears were incredibly red, either from the cold or from blushing, Connor could never tell, “I mean…does it, you know… _do_ anything for you?”

The android merely tilted his head in confusion.

“Like, uh, I know you were… _responsive_ and vocal, but… did you…you know…”

“Did I like it, you mean?”

The older man rolled the stub between his fingers, eyes downcast and avoiding Connor’s gaze, “Yeah…”

A small smile grew on Connor’s lips as he watched Hank shrivelling up in embarrassment, red and flustered. What a strange thing to see a gruff, manly, middle aged man go red at the mention of sex. It was unconventional. It was cute.

“I did,” it was as simple as that, but Connor continued, “it was…good. _Really_ good.”

Hank simply pursed his lips as he continued to stare down at his cigarette. Another beat passed, before he sighed deeply and brought the stub back onto his lips for another inhale.

“You know, if someone would’ve told me a month ago that I’d be having sex with an android in the future, I would’ve clocked them on the spot,” the older man solemnly said, thinking, “but now, look where we are…”

Connor thought about it. He remembered the anti-android slogans plastered around Hank’s desk, and the way the older man treated him before—with coldness, force, distance. It had vastly improved since then. His views on androids have changed for the better, despite his relationship with Connor. Their entire progress was wiped clean. They had to start all over again. Back to the coldness, the force, and the distance.

“Back there…when you said you’ve died before,” Hank continued, redirecting their conversation, “was that true?”

Reluctantly, Connor nodded, afraid that his answer would completely scare away Hank again.

“Shit,” Hank sighed, shaking his head as he inhaled another whiff of his cig, “so…what was it like? Dying?”

The question raised concerns. Why would a man, who was so determined to kill himself, ask such a question to an _android_? But Connor inevitably got around answering it.

“I find the subject of death to be…a difficult one, especially for androids. When I died, I didn’t really get to experience what it really means to _die_. My memory got transferred immediately onto CyberLife’s cloud and they wasted no time in getting me a new body,” Connor simply explained, “In other words, my death seemed almost non-existent. But, when I was dying…I felt…”

Hank flicked his stub and eyed Connor carefully, waiting for him to continue.

“I felt the bullet enter through my skull, and just then, I knew I was done for good,” Connor remembered, “I find that thoughts are the most difficult to deal with during death. Seconds before I shut down, I was…scared. I didn’t want to shut down. I thought maybe I would never…”

_Never accomplish the mission? Never discover what it really means to be alive? Never see Hank again?_

Connor left it hanging there, but Hank seemed to get it and didn’t push it further.

“Changes are difficult to handle,” Hank muttered, “Sometimes we all want to curl up and live the life we live until we all die. These past few weeks, it seems like the world has done us all a favour and made the changes _for_ us. A lot has changed…sometimes, I don’t even recognise myself anymore…”

The android felt a tug in his system at the statement. Empathy. Suddenly, he completely understood what Hank felt.

“Emotions are…difficult,” Connor suddenly contributed. He looked over at the view of the bridge, completely covered in snow, “Sometimes, I’d think back and wonder if becoming a deviant was the right choice. It seemed like things were easier when I didn’t feel anything. Everything’s…different now. These changes scare me…”

He suddenly remembered the way his system reacted when Hank had left him in bed. Pain. Heartache.

Hank simply hummed in response, turning his head to stare at the android for a second before staring back into space. “You and me both…”

Another moment of silence enveloped them, but it was different. It wasn’t uncomfortable, or awkward, it was…peaceful. A sense of solidarity, empathy, and understanding filled the air as they sat there, just staring at the bridge together in silence.

“I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Connor…” Hank suddenly interrupted their moment, flicking his burnt out stub into the snow, “maybe there’s something to this.”

Maybe. The thought brought a warm feeling to Connor’s chest.

Slowly, the older man stood up from his position and stretched.

“C’mon…” Hank gestured to follow him as he walked back to his car, Connor right on his tail, “let’s go home.”

Home. It was only a word, and yet that single word managed to make Connor feel like he’s been completely washed over and reborn: painful emotions wiped off from his systems in exchange for new ones.

Happiness. Tenderness. Joy. Hope.

So much hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to channel my inner Andre Aciman ok 
> 
> once again, thank you for all the comments and kudos, they mean a lot <3 get ready to see some familiar faces in the next chapter (I promise they'll all get their happy endings ok)


	5. Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome back kids. i really enjoy and appreciate all the amazing feedback i've been getting for this fic (because wow almost 500 kudos now) it really butters my eggroll 
> 
> for those of you who dont already know, this fic follows up the [kara remains reset](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txwwR3fwlCc) ending (yeah oops) i'm not very good at writing case fics, so i hope ya'll forgive me if this extended zlatko case doesn't make any sense haha i tried my best but i hope you guys enjoy anyway
> 
> (also i'm going to be very busy in the next few weeks so updates might be a bit delayed, but I will try my very best to get them up as soon as possible)

Things returned back to the way they were the next day.

In the station, Connor managed to resume back into the android cases. Hank didn’t put up with another argument.

Last night, after their conversation in the park, the older man had plopped down on the couch and told the android he’d be sleeping in the living room. He said something about Connor needing more rest and that the android could sleep on his bed until his systems are okay.

Humans were weird, Connor thought. Hank had already seen him naked. They’ve touched each other, brought each other pleasure, and now the thought of sharing a bed together seemed out of bounds to him?

He didn’t tolerate with that kind of mindset. The android pulled Hank into the bedroom and convinced him to lie together. They did. But they slept on the far sides of the bed, curled up in their own little corner.

It wasn’t what Connor wanted, but it was enough.

There were still some things left unsaid between them. He understood that Hank wouldn’t automatically forgive Connor for what he’s done in the past all because of that one night. They didn’t kiss and make up. Things were more complicated than that. Connor wasn’t going to be let out that easily; he still has to work for it.

Now here they were again, back to reality. Like nothing ever happened.

Connor continued to follow up with the Zlatko case, just like he said he would, and he started off by interrogating the two androids left in Zlatko’s estate. Hank had said they were pretty compliant to come into the station when they were arrested, they didn’t fight or run away like Zlatko.

No one really complained that Connor had to be the one to interrogate them. Except for Gavin, who suggested other ideas.

“You can always just probe their memories, why waste time trying to get them to talk?” the detective sneered as they all watched Chris Miller cuff the female android onto the table from the other side of the glass.

The female android was stilted but somehow she looked a bit…lost in thought. Connor didn’t know how to describe it, but she seemed as though she was constantly thinking, wondering about something.

“Probing their memories won’t give us everything,” Connor explained, “It’ll only give me surveillance footage. We need information regarding anything that links Zlatko to McDavid, and other possible accomplices.”

“Why can’t you just grab their arm or some shit like that and _take_ information? Why the fuck do we have to pry it out of them?” Gavin jabbed, crossing his arms together in annoyance.

“We cannot simply take information like that. Nothing can be pried if an android refuses to sync or interface—it has to be permitted by both parties.”

“Well we don’t _need_ permission. They’re in our custody, we can open them up and—”

“Reed, shut the fuck up,” Hank suddenly interrupted as he eyed the female android sitting on the other side.

It really wasn’t simple. Getting information from an android was a little more complex, and it almost worked the same as trying to interrogate a human. If they self-destruct, there wouldn’t be anything to obtain at all. Trust was involved, if Connor could get the androids to trust him, maybe they’ll be able to sync up and share information regarding the case.

When Chris Miller entered the observation room, he nodded to both Hank and Connor. “Whenever you’re ready, guys.”

With another approving nod from Hank, Connor walked out of the door and went into the interrogation room.

The female android lifted up her head when Connor entered the room. She watched him as he sat across from her, cool and calculated but at the same time, warm and open.

She looked familiar, Connor thought. She looked a bit different from the rest of the AX400 series. Her hair was black, cut short, and she discarded her CyberLife uniform for a button up shirt and pants. With a quick scan, he analysed her android model.  


**AX400 | House keeper**  
**Model # 579 102 694**  
**Status: REPORTED MISSING**  
  


Images suddenly flashed through Connor’s brain: the Ravendale District, the abandoned house, the burnt android, and the chase through the streets and the highway.

Connor remembered it like it was yesterday. It was the day after they found Carlos Ortiz’s android and Chris reported a missing android sighting in the midst of Hank and Connor’s mini dispute.

“It stole wire cutters. There must be a reason,” Connor remembered telling Hank, the latter tried to recap the android sighting on his device in the rain. Connor checked the CCTV footage of the convenience store while Hank questioned the clerk and he saw the AX400— dressed in new clothes— discreetly swipe the cutter into her jacket and left.

“It had wire cutters and it was looking for a place to hide.”

“So what’s your conclusion, Sherlock?” Hank asked, as Connor paced in his place.

And then the abandoned house came into sight.

“Maybe it didn’t go far…”

Connor remembered the chase too. The AX400 had a little girl with her as they climbed up the fence and into the highway. When Connor reached them, they were already on the other side and briefly, the AX400 stared at him through the fence. They shared a small moment; there was something in the android’s eyes that Connor couldn’t quite comprehend, and for a second there, Connor felt the desperation of the android.

The fear, the pleading, and the anxiety, Connor felt all of it through the blue eyes of the AX400.

And now those very eyes were staring at him but they were pitch black, waiting, blinking. She was quiet, but she looked completely lost.

“I remember you,” Connor started slowly, “A few weeks ago, in the Ravendale District. You hid in an abandoned house and you were with a little girl.”

“A little girl?” the android wondered. She stared down at her cuffs with her brows furrowed, thinking. She was distracted, Connor made another attempt to get her attention.

“My name is Connor. What about you? What’s your name?”

The android just blinked down at the table, “I…I don’t know.”

Her memory’s been wiped, Connor concluded, just like Lucas. She wouldn’t remember anything prior to her arrival at Zlatko’s mansion, so he decided to stay in topic and asked questions about the man.

“Can you tell me what your function is?”

“I am a domestic android, designed for house keeping, cooking and child care. I served Zlatko, brought him food, and cleaned up when he told me to.”

“The androids, there were other androids there, right? What was he doing with them?” Connor continued, his voice firm but still careful. There was something about this android that seemed a bit… off.

“He was…” she trailed off and thought for a second, hesitating, “He would take them in. Sometimes he would take them to the basement to reset them, sell them off afterwards, and other times he would…open them up.”

“Open them up?”

“Fix them. Rearrange their parts. Experiment on them, and he would keep them in the house.”

The mutilated androids, Connor remembered Hank telling him. Reports said they were literally all over the place. Disfigured and horrific, Zlatko would let them wander around like monsters in the house. It was horrible. It was disgusting.

“And the androids he resets? What happens to them?”

“He sells them off. Trades them, sometimes…” the android said, “Sales would depend on the demand in his website, some models are bought faster than others.”

“Did he have his own platform to sell these androids?” Connor questioned immediately. Zlatko was either an affiliate with the _Davo’s Spare and Share_ website or he had his own.

“He contributed to a website set up by a friend. He had three guys come in the house every week for meetings. They share sales and revenue.”

“Three guys? There were three other guys? What were their names? And the website?” Connor demanded.

“I-I don’t…” the android flinched a bit, suddenly overwhelmed, “I don’t know. I don’t have information on that. He keeps his business private. I just remembered the last android he took in was immediately sold to one of the guys. An AP700 model, if I recall correctly.”

Connor sighed. Zlatko was definitely affiliated with McDavid. All he really needed now were the other guys’ names, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to get anything more from the android. Maybe the other android knew.

“Listen…” the female android suddenly whispered under her breath, her eyes frantic and her hands fidgety, “I don’t know what happened, I don’t remember… but I know there’s something else that’s missing...”

Connor furrowed his eyebrows at the statement and leaned into the table in interest.

“I keep getting these… _flashes_ of footage in my head. Images, memories, things that I can’t remember anymore. But… they’re there,” the android muttered, “the little girl. You said I was with a little girl. Those androids, those _creatures_ keep saying something about a little girl. I need to know, I need to _remember_ …”

Her eyes, despite being completely black, spoke to Connor in a way where they communicated the exact same feeling of desperation before. She was scared and confused, desperate for something—anything to jog her memory again. But _can_ it be restored? After so long?

Connor didn’t know how, but he wanted to help.

Slowly, he inched his hand across the table and set it on top of hers. They both watched in awe as both of their skins slip back to reveal their real plastic shells, syncing and interfacing to exchange necessary information.

The information Connor was giving didn’t really pertain to the case in any way. He shared footage and memories of their chase in the Ravendale District, hoping that it would somehow jog her memory back.

And then he felt a jolt of electricity.

Suddenly, flashes of images invaded his mind and he couldn’t stop it from overflowing. Memories. _Her_ memories.

The house, the man, the little girl and how they fought to escape. Everything was flashing through Connor’s mind in a split second. It continued and continued, he saw himself in the memories—he chased them in the highway and he grabbed her but she escaped his grasp. And then the mansion, Zlatko, how he promised to get them to Canada.

He saw and felt the exact moment she was reset, but her memory continued. It revealed her serving food to Zlatko, cleaning up the android carcasses, and all of those disfigured androids…

And then a face. Two faces. Three faces. She was serving them beer in the lounge at the mansion. Zlatko’s accomplices. Connor quickly imbedded their faces into his own memory before he pulled his hand away from her. It was scalding hot.

When Connor looked up at her face in shock, she blinked her dark eyes until they turned back to blue—as if Connor’s touch was all it took to completely turn her back to normal. She stared at him, her eyes were blown wide in panic. Suddenly, she was pulling on the restraints.

“No, get me out of here…” she demanded, and then she pulled on her restraints even harder, almost thrashing in place, “Get me out now!”

Connor jumped up his seat, panicking a bit. He didn’t know what to do. Seeing her memories kind of bogged down his system, his program was frozen in place. He was in shock. She kept thrashing around and she pulled and pulled, the chair behind her crashing on the floor.

“Please! Please!” she pleaded.

When he finally got a hold of himself, Connor came to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder, desperately trying to calm her down as she continued to pull at the cuffs, but she wouldn’t stop.

The door in the interrogation room opened. Hank, Gavin and Chris piled into the space in a hurry to try to help the situation.

“The fuck did you do?!” Gavin questioned Connor as the android continued to hold her down so she wouldn’t hurt herself even more. Connor ignored him; he knelt down next to the android and tried to get her to look at him instead.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re going to hurt yourself,” he calmly told her, his hands coming down to gently hold her arms in position. Surprisingly, it worked. She slowed down and suddenly remained still, her head bowed down to the ground to avoid eye contact. Behind him, he heard Hank order Chris to unlatch the cuffs from the table.

The moment Chris unlatched the cuffs, the android dropped into her knees and curled up into a small ball, the sound of her sobbing was barely audible.

Without even thinking, Connor brought a hand up and let it rest on her shoulder as she sobbed onto the floor, completely wrecked with grief and despair. And just like that, Connor knew exactly what she was crying about.

“Alice…” he heard her whisper under her breath

 

* * *

 

The day had to go on, even after all of that.

“Can you check up on her once in a while?” Connor asked Hank when they got back to their desks. After the events in the interrogation room, Chris had to lock her back into the cell while they took the other android for interrogation, “I don’t want her to self-destruct in the cells.”

He remembered Ortiz’s android, and how he repeatedly banged his head into the glass after Connor checked up on him. It was completely spontaneous. He self-destructed just like that, even if Connor proceeded with care and caution.

Hank just nodded, completely understanding the situation. “You ‘gonna go back in and interrogate the other android?”

“He might know more than her. The AX400 had the little girl with her; they went into that mansion together but the report says there were no signs of a little girl. Maybe he knows more about what happened to her.”

“Fuck…” the older man sighed, “that Zlatko guy’s a sick bastard.”

“The other android might also know more about the other two men involved in McDavid’s circle,” Connor said, “There were three men there in Zlatko’s house, I’m going to assume McDavid is one of them.”

“So it _is_ a small organization, huh?”

Connor nodded. “Looks like it. Let’s hope we can take them all down as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure we will,” Hank reassured as he sat down on his desk and opened the terminal, “Did you send in the screenshots of those two other guys?”

“I did, they should be on your terminal by now. Try to cross reference them into the system and see if you could identify them,” Connor instructed.

He was on fire today (metaphorically speaking). Never had he felt his adrenaline shot up before. These android cases were giving him an initiative— a purpose, a mission to complete, a reason to function. It felt like he was finally doing something _right_ , and he _loved_ it. Of course, there were still a few bumps on the road.

Emotions were contagious. When the AX400 cried her eyes out in the interrogation room, Connor sagged with her. He wanted to do everything he could to fix the situation: save the little girl, return her to the android and let them go so they could live a happy life. But things weren’t that simple.

What if the little girl was gone? What if she was dead and Connor could never return her back?

“What exactly did you do back there?” Hank suddenly asked, his eyes narrowing at Connor, “You just touched her and then she…”

The android shrugged, it was something he began to pick up from Hank. “We synced up and exchanged information— interfaced. I wanted to help jog her memory back, so I gave her what I could: footage and memories of when we tried to chase her back in November. It seemed to have worked…somehow…”

“So what, she remembers who she is now?”

“Seems like it,” Connor simply said. It _was_ strange, how just a simple interface and a touch of hand could drastically change and affect an android. Just like what he did to Lucas. Androids were just as weird as humans.

With a scoff, Hank shook his head in disbelief, “You’re something else, you know?”

Connor smiled at that, but then it dropped when he remembered what he saw through the female android’s eyes. The little girl and how her father was beating her. The AX400 stopped at nothing from getting her away from that home. Connor felt it all: the care, the love and the determination. Nothing else mattered to that android except for the little girl.

“You be careful in there, okay?” Hank suddenly said, looking up at him with a serious expression, “Try not to cause anymore ruckus. I want you out of there alive.”

Connor felt his insides warm up. Sure, it was more of an off-handed comment, but he knew it was Hank’s own way of expressing his concern for the android. If anything that happened last night hadn’t proven that already.

“I’ll try my best,” the android simply said.

 

* * *

 

The other android’s name was Luther.

 **TR400 | Dock Labourer**  
**Model # 290 477 130**  
**Status: REPORTED MISSING**

When Connor initially entered the room, he found the sight of Luther sitting on the small table a bit amusing. He was practically bulging out of the chair, and it was a little cute that a big, bulky android was scrunched up in a small position to try to accommodate for the space he was occupying. Connor couldn’t even believe how those small cuffs could secure such a man.

He turned out to be a calm, soft spoken android, and revealed that he’d been with Zlatko prior to the female android’s arrival.

“She arrived with a little girl, asking for help. But Zlatko reset her and took the little girl away…” Luther said with a sad tone in his voice.

“Do you know what happened to her?” Connor questioned.

Luther wondered for a bit before answering, “Zlatko keeps his business private; keeps androids like me away from his weekly meetings. But I do know that Zlatko took another android after that week and he’s only sold two androids since November.”

Two? The one android was obviously Lucas, but the other one? Could it be the little girl?

“Was the little girl an android?” Connor questioned, suddenly intrigued.

“…I believe so,” Luther hesitantly said, a bit unsure.

“Do you know her model and serial number?”

The other android shook his head, almost like he was disappointed in himself.

“Do you at least know some information regarding the meetings? Zlatko meets up with three guys, right? Do you have any idea who those are?”

“I…I’m sorry I don’t, but…” Luther suddenly perked up, his LED spinning and blinking in blue, “I tried to gather audio information the one time. I was on the second floor in stand by, and it was the same week Zlatko took the little girl away. They were having their weekly meeting and I tried the best I could to eavesdrop, but whatever I recorder was inaudible. I couldn’t make any sense of it. Maybe you will.”

With a palm willingly open for interface, Connor reached over and grabbed Luther’s hand to sync up information.

It was surprisingly easy interrogating Luther; he seemed more than eager to give private information about his owner and it made Connor wonder if Luther had been waiting to exploit his owner’s wrongdoings for a long time.

Maybe he never had the chance. Maybe he was looking for the right moment. Clearly, the moment came a little too late.

Connor slowly felt the information trickle into his system. He closed his eyes and listened to a snippet of the audio play back as it transferred into his interface. Right off the bat, Connor could hear four different voices, but it was muffled and too quiet to pick up anything. It was better than nothing.

The audio could be cleaned up and fixed later, Connor thought. Luckily, his model was specifically designed to do things like this, and maybe he’ll be able to distinguish and identify the different voices later on.

When he pulled his hand away, Connor opened his eyes and stared at Luther. His eyes were sad, resigned, but somewhere, inside those artificial irises, there was a spark of hope as he stared back into Connor.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Luther,” Connor said, letting his expression fall into a warm and sincere one, “You’ve been a great help.”

The other android slowly nodded his head, “Just…save the little one.”

Connor quirked his head up in surprise. Just the way Luther had said the phrase struck something inside of Connor. Emotional instability. He completely felt and understood the desperation of this android, just like the other android.

Everything was in his hands now. The fate of these two androids, and the life of the little girl. Somehow, the responsibility was daunting but he kept that feeling aside and let his sense of determination push through.

All that really matters now was the little girl.

With that, he turned his head to the glass. “I think I’m done here.”

 

* * *

_“…..sales have gone up…. more and more androids have…it’s….fucking everywhere now….”_

_“How many…………sold?”_

_“I had five……....this week……”_

_“There are so many deviants……………………it’s……………..isn’t’ it?”_

_“You think…………….could it……you know?”_

_“What happened to………you know, you could always……but…..not enough…….”_

_“A deviant came………….it thought……..bastard almost escaped…….”_

_“……..website is blowing up………….demand for…..is high…….”_

_“………….I……….speaking of…………………another deviant came………yesterday it…………”_

_“……pretty little thing in………kitchen?...........for sale?”_

_“James it’s…………..fuck……………it’s……………….”_

_“Well why did you………….if you weren’t gonna………..”_

_“It came……………………………………..a little girl………what do you think, Pete?”_

_“Little………………….android……………..”_

_“I’ll trade you………………………..for…………………what model……………..”_

_“YK500………………is that…….what do you say?”_

_“Will it…………………if I……….you know…………..”_

_“……………………all yours, Pat. All you need is………..trade………deal?”_

_“Instead of………..you should……..how about that? Is that better?”_

_“No way………if you…………….how about…….is that more negotiable, Pat?”_

_“……………………okay fine, deal.”_

* * *

 

Hank immediately came back with results from the screenshots.

“James Brown and Patrick Carrick,” the older man reported as he brought the images up on his handheld device and showed Connor, “the other one is obviously McDavid.”

Connor was promptly sitting on Hank’s desk while Hank scooted his chair over to show him the results of the scan. After his interrogation with Luther, Connor immediately came back to his desk and started to fidget with the audio file. He did what he could to clean it up and made it as clear as possible, but he could only understand bits and pieces of conversation. Most of it was inaudible.

He did, however, managed to get some names and the generalised android model of the little girl.

“I checked the audio file Luther gave me and did what I could to scavenge information,” Connor told Hank as his fingers fidgeted together in thought, “I have some names: James, Pete and Pat.”

“So James Brown, Peter McDavid and Patrick Carrick… ‘checks out, doesn’t it?”

“Correct. I also have the little girl’s android model: a YK500. I don’t have her serial number, but it’s a start,” Connor informed, “The audio seems to suggest that the YK500 was traded to Carrick. I think we should start with him first.”

“Way ahead of you already,” Hank suddenly said. He brought his device back up and brought out Patrick Carrick’s full information, with his criminal background and his home address and everything.

Connor raised his eyebrows and gave Hank a small, impressed smirk, “Nice work, Lieutenant.”

Hank shook his head at that and turned away to avoid eye contact. Again. He looked a little flustered with the praise, which made Connor smile even more. His insides started to heat up and his regulator pumped a little faster at the sight of the man shrugging off the praise and mumbling to himself about how _“it’s nothing really”_ and _“anyone could have done it.”_

There was another moment of silence between them when Hank scooted over to the far side of his desk. Connor watched intently as the older man set aside the handheld device and rubbed his hands together to generate some warmth.

Suddenly, Hank’s hands fascinated him.

Connor remembered last night, the way Hank’s hands felt on his body. How warm they were. How those huge, rough, calloused hands ran down his smooth and flawless skin. How those fingers felt inside of him, hot and slick with android lubrication, and how they made his entire system react. Just the memory of it brought a shiver to Connor’s spine and something low and humming in his stomach. 

His internal temperature suddenly spiked up, and he felt scorching hot inside. The android involuntarily swallowed at the thought of Hank touching him again. He shouldn’t be having thoughts like this at work, good god, what was he turning into?

Before he could overthink things even more, Hank stood up from his chair.

“Well, whenever you’re ready…” the older man said as he rearranged his winter coat.

Ready for what? Could Hank read his mind? Did he know what Connor was thinking?

Paranoia, fear, and embarrassment filled his systems once again, which sent his LED spinning in yellow. God, he was so obvious.

“Ready for what?” Connor asked.

Hank drew his eyebrows together in confusion, “Ready to raid Carrick.”

Oh.

“O-Oh, yes…” Connor stuttered. Machines didn’t stutter, but dammit, was it embarrassing when he did. Connor came to label embarrassment as one of the worst emotions he’s ever experienced. Next to heartbreak. He never wanted to experience that again. “Sorry.”

“What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing.”

Hank gave a second to narrow his eyes at Connor, a little confused and suspicious. A little red at the cheeks too, if Connor _really_ squinted.

The older man awkwardly cleared his throat before continuing, “Well, I’ll talk to Fowler about it, give him a heads up and see if I can get a warrant to arrest and search Carrick and Brown’s houses. I think you need to talk to your lady friend there first before we do anything else.”

Connor nodded at Hank as he watched the older man walk away and enter the captain’s glass office.

With a huff of breath, the android stood up from Hank’s table and tightened his tie, for no reason at all. He took another second to let his insides cool off before he walked back to the cells and checked up on the two androids.

Connor noticed that he and Hank kept getting moments like that—moments of awkwardness, being all flustered and fumbly with words. It was new. It was different. A different type of tension. Better than the cut-throat tension they had before, but there was still a significant distance between them regardless.

Juggling between emotional struggles, relationship struggles and the weight of the cases had put a damper on Connor. Everything was beginning to become a little too stressful nowadays.

But if that’s what it took to learn and improve from his past mistakes, he’d do it—endure it all.

When Connor reached the androids’ cell, he stopped by the glass and observed them.

Luther and the other android were on the far side of the cell, quiet, thinking. The moment Conner appeared on sight, they both lifted their heads up and stared. The female android walked up close to the glass and looked at Connor with _those_ eyes. Blue eyes. Clear. Shining. A sudden contrast to the black soulless eyes she had when he interrogated her.

Slowly, she lifted up a hand and let it rest on the glass. They shared a small moment there, just staring at each other, as if they both knew exactly what they were struggling through.

“We got a lead,” Connor started, breaking the moment, “We’ve identified one of the guys associated with Zlatko, the one who took the little girl. We’re going there in a few hours now…”

He flicked his eyes up at Luther, who slowly approached the glass and stood next to the female android and listened in.

“Thank you…” the female android whispered, full of raw honesty and emotion. Luther looked down at her and put a hand on her shoulder in comfort.

“Once we get her back, I’ll send you all to Markus,” Connor reassured, “he’ll know how to take care of you.”

The female android just nodded, wordless, a few tears streaking down her face. The sight almost broke Connor entirely.

“You’re a strong woman. I don’t know how you do it or how you cope with everything…” he added.

“She’s all I have,” the female android almost choked, “she’s the only thing that matters to me now.”

Connor felt that. He remembered seeing the journey of the android and the little girl flash through his head. “I promise I’ll get her to you.”

He looked up at Luther and saw the android nod at him in approval, a small smile creeping up on his lips. It was contagious. Connor smiled back—a little strained, but a smile none the less.

“Since your memories are back,” Connor suddenly added as he turned back to the female android, “do you remember your name?”

The android wiped her tears away before answering, “It’s Kara.”

“Kara. That’s a nice name.”

That earned him a small chuckle from the android, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Alice, the little girl, she was the one who gave it to me.”

It seemed pretty much set in stone: the little girl, it was his responsibility to get her to them back alive and well. If possible. And there, he felt it: the pressure. It was a scary feeling, and it set Connor’s nerves on edge. Doubt. Anxiety. Unease. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, he should be confident and un-wavered.

After all, he always accomplishes his mission.

But as he forced another smile to both of the androids, he wasn’t even sure he was going to accomplish this one.

Uncertainty. Yet another emotion he disliked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is a bit of a short one compared to the last chapter but bear with me guys
> 
> also i dont really ship connor/kara (no offense to anyone who does) i was actually expecting them to somehow end up together in the game before its release after I saw all the trailers (and I was so ready to beat up david cage if that did happen because it'd be the most predictable thing ever) but im actually so so happy that the brunt of the zero-chemesty romance subplot was given to markus/north instead haha 
> 
> my brain just subconciously wrote heartfelt moments like this between them...for some reason... *in pewdiepie's voice* HmmMMMmmm...


	6. Caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back (updated will continually be slow but bear with me pls) 
> 
> Thank you again for all the lovely lovely support I've been getting for this fic, even if it does stray away from the perfect everybody lives ending :P I'm surprise people still read this even if it follows two completely different endings that most fanfic writers don't even write about
> 
> In any case, I hope you still enjoy this shit show <3

“You alright?”

Connor quirked his head up at Hank in surprise and answered immediately, “Yes, of course.”

“You’ve been pretty quiet since we’ve left the station,” Hank told him, as he took a bite of his burger, “Is something bothering you?”

Connor looked down at his hands and thought about it, not realising that he’d been quiet and staring at nothing with his LED blinking yellow. Hank decided to take his lunch break at the Chicken Feed while they waited for the warrants to be processed. He took Connor with him this time, which was a sudden change. A good change, the android noted.

“I was just thinking about the androids back there in the station,” Connor admitted, “they…they seem pretty desperate to get this little girl back. The female one, especially…just her eyes…”

Hank furrowed his brows at that, silent as he took a sip of his drink.

“Nice girl, isn’t she?” he suddenly said.

Connor looked at Hank, a little confused. He might just be imagining it, but it seemed like the older man’s tone sounded…bitter. The phrase was like a bite. But why?

The android stared at the older man, wordless, with his eyes narrowed as he studied him. Hank was merely chewing on his burger, with his face turned away from Connor. His muscles were tensed, his brows were drawn together, and he seemed withdrawn from the conversation. He expressed a certain emotion that Connor couldn’t quiet place...

“What did you mean by that, Lieutenant?” Connor asked back, serious, his voice toned down a few octaves.

Hank shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant but failing miserably, eyes still downcast, “You said something about her eyes.”

“Her eyes expressed misery. She managed to emulate a sense of desperation through her eyes—it was sad. I felt sympathy _for_ her, and it affected me.”

“Oh.”

“What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing.”

Connor continued to stare him down until Hank finally looked up at him. The older man merely rolled his eyes at the android and crumpled up his trash, trying his best to move on from the moment.

“I said nothing,” he insisted.

And with that, he moved away from the table to throw away his garbage.

 

* * *

 

It was four in the afternoon when they arrived at Patrick Carrick’s house. With some backup.

During the car ride, Connor took the time to narrow down who Alice was (just in case they were off to rescue a different YK500). He looked into Kara’s old missing android report and gathered some information about her owner.

“If Kara had run away with the girl from her previous owner, then the little girl must be registered to the same owner,” Connor concluded in the car, “Todd Williams, 43 years old, divorced and unemployed. His criminal history: illegal possession of Red Ice.”

“Jesus, we never should’ve been disbanded…” Hank off-handily muttered to himself.

“There are two androids registered to his name. An AX400 and a YK500,” Connor continued, “YK500’s serial number is 609 122 956. Last sighted at the Ravendale district.”

Connor seemed like he was right on track, but now that they were finally here, every wire and biocomponent in his system doubted his research. How was he certain that in the audio clip, the YK500 was Alice? What if it was just another random YK500? What if it wasn’t Alice? What would he say to Kara?

He internally prayed that they were tracking down the right kid.

The house seemed pretty much like Zlatko’s. It was a small, impressive mansion with two garages and white pillars everywhere, but it was no where near as extravagant as McDavid’s. Or Kamski’s, Connor quickly noted again. Nothing will ever compare to Kamski’s house.

Hank parked his car outside of the man’s garage and informed the other cop cars that came with them to stand by and stay hidden.

The walk to the door was quiet; the scrunching of the snow was the only thing that disturbed the silence between them as they approached the house. Every step to the doorway seemed to have coincided with the android’s thirium pump regulator: the closer he got to the door, the louder his regulator pumped. He was nervous. He didn’t know why.

“Let’s hope he’s easy to negotiate with,” Hank said as he rang the doorbell. Connor, on the other hand, took the time to fix his tie and adjust his lapels until his regulator finally slowed down.

The door opened almost immediately after the bell rang. It opened up a sliver to reveal man peeking out from the door, cautious, before he fully opened it.

“Y-Yes?” The man asked. He was wearing normal house clothes, with a baggy shirt and gym shorts. He had a beard and a receding hairline, and his eyes twitched when he looked back and forth between Hank and Connor.

“Patrick Carrick, I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson, this is Connor. You’re under arrest for android trafficking under the affiliation of Peter McDavid—”

Hank didn’t even get the chance to finish.

Carrick immediately tried to slam the door in both their faces, but Connor was fast enough to slam it back open with his arm. The force of Connor’s slam sent Carrick tumbling down on the floor in surprise, but he quickly scrambled up and started to bolt towards the other room.

Connor sprinted after him, Hank trailing behind him with his gun equipped.

Fast and agile, the android managed to catch up to Carrick as the latter ran to the living room, reaching for the shotgun he had in the corner of the fireplace. He was pinned to the ground before he even had the chance to touch it.

Connor firmly planted his right knee on Carrick’s back and forced the man’s face into the beautiful, wooden floor.

“Fucking hell!” Carrick cried out, muffled on the floor as his lips remained squished on the ground. The android reach around and grabbed both the man’s hands, pinning them to his back with one hand while the other one held Carrick’s head to the floor.

Hank quickly came to his side and handed him the cuffs, and with a swift movement, Carrick was immediately restrained.

“I’ll take it from here, Connor,” Hank told him as the android lifted his knee from the squirming man, “Go ahead and search the place.”

With an approving nod, Connor stood up from the floor and paced around the living room to look for anything important, leaving Carrick with Hank.

“I’m ‘gonna fucking sue you, old man! Your toy there damn near broke my nose!” the man hysterically exclaimed.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Hank told him as he lifted him off the ground, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

The android left the living room to quickly search around the first floor. He looked everywhere: the kitchen, the dinning room, the cupboards, and essentially circled around the floor until he was back to where he started. No signs of androids. No Alice.

Hank had ordered the other cops outside to pile in and search the property as well, and with that Connor ascended up the second floor.

There were approximately five doors upstairs, four of them led to a bedroom and one of them led to a bathroom. Out of all the doors, there was only one that was closed. Without even a second thought, the android headed straight into the room with the closed door.

When he entered the room, he paused for a second at the sight on the bed.

It wasn’t anything too bad, but the sight of a child, faced down, motionless on the bed with thirium slowly leaking from her nose sent a small twinge inside Connor’s program. Emotional instability. For a split second there, he felt something cold drop to the bottom of his stomach.

Quickly, he ran to her side. She was fully dressed in pajamas, thank god, but as Connor analysed her body, he detected small scratches and dents on her arms and legs—her wrists especially, like the plastic casing on her wrists were squeezed until it made a permanent dent. The scratches on her body were severe enough to have destroyed her artificial skin, revealing small lines of white and blue.

When Connor slowly turned her on her back, he ran a quick analysis.  
  
  
**YK500**  
**Model # 609 122 956**  
 **Status: REPORTED MISSING**  


He touched her forehead and ran a diagnostic. Thirium was slowly leaking through her body from the nose. She wasn’t bleeding profusely, but she’s been bleeding for hours now that it was slowly draining her system; she was left like this on the bed for long time and it had only happened a couple of hours before. Five hours, to be exact.

“Shit,” Connor hissed under his breath.

He continued to check her systems and found out she was shut down manually. It was a force shut down; a biocomponent was ripped out of her body.  
  
  
**Missing Biocomponent: #8451**  
  
  
He whipped his head around the room and immediately, he saw the missing biocomponent sitting neatly on the bedside table. With quick hands, he grabbed the component and slotted it in the android’s mechanical body.

Connor could restore her back, but she might permanently shut down if he didn’t hurry her to a repair shop. Time was definitely ticking, but he tested it out anyway, just to make sure the restoration of her system was still possible.

Hands steady, he opened up her model and tweaked a few wires here and there as an attempt to resuscitate her.

And then she gasped, her LED spinning back to life in red.

Holy shit.

“Hank!” Connor shouted as he slid his arms under the little girl’s body, carrying her with ease as he stood up, “She’s here!”

The little girl blinked her eyes open and her arms slowly came up, weakly tightening it around Connor’s neck as he cradled her to his chest. He didn’t waste anymore time, he practically ran down the stairs as fast as he could with the girl in his arms.

“Jesus Christ…” he heard Hank say as Connor reached the bottom of the stairs. There were more cops roaming around the first floor, but Connor didn’t pay them any attention. His thirium was pumping so hard and so loud inside his body, it was all that he could practically hear. The only thing mattered right now was the little girl’s safety.

“We have to get her to a repair shop, now!” Connor explained, rushing through the door and to the car.

Hank didn’t question him any further. He opened the car door for Connor and let the androids pile into the back seat as he moved around to go to the driver’s seat, notifying all officers in the property that they both have to leave the premise in a state of emergency.

“Alice? Alice, can you hear me?” Connor tried as he laid her down on his lap.

The little girl only managed to release a broken and distorted moan.

“It’s okay, we’re going to get you some help. Just hang on…” the android reassured as he ran another diagnostic.  
  
  
**SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: -00:24:32**  
  
  
When Connor realised they were still parked in place, he looked up and saw Hank just staring at him intently through the rearview mirror. His eyes were just plastered onto Connor, almost like he was frozen in shock at the sight of Connor cradling a small, dying child. But now was not the time.

“Hank, drive!” Connor suddenly exclaimed, making the other man jump in his seat and start his engine.

 

* * *

 

 

They managed to get Alice into a repair shop just in time.

Connor remembered the mechanic telling them that she’d be ready in a couple of days. One of the tubes that ran through the little girl’s neck was slightly punctured, which was why thirium was steadily leaking through her nose. She was okay, but she did lose a significantly large about of thirium. As for the scratches, they were merely surface level and could easily be fixed, which relieved Connor.

The journey to the mechanic went smoothly. The only thing unusual that Connor noted was Hank’s behaviour during the trip.

He seemed very distracted and troubled throughout the entire drive. Connor didn’t know how to talk to him; he remained silent in the car. They both did. Whenever Connor did try to say or ask something, Hank’s answers were very short and curt. In fact, the only time Hank broke his silence was at the repair shop: he was the one insistent on the girl being repaired immediately.

“She better be ready by tomorrow, got it?” Connor remembered the older man telling the mechanic, his voice firm and scarily demanding, “I don’t want to keep her mother waiting.”

By the time they got the paperwork done at the mechanics, the police officers at Carrick’s mansion had completely swept the place up, gathered sufficient evidence, and left the scene with a truck full of evidence. A truck full of evidence. The phrase raised concerns.

When the paperwork was all good and the bills were paid, they left the shop the same way they entered it: in silence.

The drive back to the station was uneasy— the silence was uneasy, but none of them wanted to break it. It was like they both knew exactly _why_ , but they refused to acknowledge it, afraid that it might spark an unwanted conversation.

Half-way through the drive, however, Connor managed to break it.

“You okay, Hank?”

He heard the older man take in a deep breath before giving out a big sigh, his eyes staring intently at the road before him as he drove with unwavering hands.

“…yeah,” he grumbled, almost inaudible under his breath.

They both left it at that.

 

* * *

 

Hank told him he was going to do a bit of paper work and see the evidence taken from the mansion when they returned to the station.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” the Lieutenant told him, his voice tired as he retreated into the archives.

Connor knew it wasn’t appropriate to let his personal life interfere with his work life, especially since he and Hank were co-workers, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Hank’s face in that rear-view mirror. There was a time and place for emotions, and he knew now wasn’t the right time. But still…his arms were practically aching to wrap around the older man in comfort.

Since he was a professional, however, he set those feelings aside. For now.

Instead, he distracted himself by going into the cells, ready to break the good news to Kara and Luther.

Just like before, they both perked at the sight of Connor approaching the glass— Kara especially. She immediately went up to the glass with both of her hands now clutching on the barrier, her eyes shining, _pleading_ for any news.

“We found her,” Connor simply said.

And those words alone immediately sparked something inside Kara that made her eyes shine even brighter. They were glassy and wet with tears as she smiled at him, bigger than before and absolutely filled with warmth and sincerity. Luther smiled with her, his figure standing close to Kara.

“She’s a little…beaten up around the edges, but…” the android huffed a breath, remembering the state of the little girl in his arms, “she’ll be okay by tomorrow.”

“Connor, I-I don’t know how to thank you enough…” she choked as she wiped her tears away.

Connor gave her a small smile at that, but it dropped the next second as he suddenly remembered something. There was another thing the mechanic told him that would be pretty hard to break. Well…he better let it out anyway. Honesty was good, he reminded himself.

“There’s something else,” he started, “There’s…a high probability that Alice might be reset. If she wasn’t already.”

That almost immediately wiped the smile away from Kara’s face. But still, her face remained firm, neutral. It took another second for her to speak.

“I don’t care if she’s reset,” she said, “I just want her safe and alive. That’s all that matters.”

Conner nodded at that as he eyed both the androids. “We’ll pick her up tomorrow just in time for the transfer. We’ll bring her in the station early enough for all of you to go together.”

“Are you sure this Markus guy will take us in?” Luther suddenly asked in a small, uncertain voice.

“I know he will,” Connor reassured, very confident in his answer as he remembered the leader’s passionate speech after the successful demonstration, “He’d love to help you guys.” 

Luther’s arm suddenly came to wrap around Kara’s shoulder, pulling the android closer to him as they both smiled at each other. The sight made Connor smile too. It filled his heart to see them both finally happy together.

“I wish you guys the best,” Connor said, “I hope everything turns out well for all of you.”

“You too,” Kara suddenly interjected, a smirk slowly appearing on her lips as she stared back at Connor, “You know…I saw your memories...”

It took awhile for Connor to register just what Kara had meant when she said that. Yes, they both shared glimpses of their memories together in that interrogation room, but what would that…?

When it finally hit him, all he could feel was heat. Unbearable heat. It spread across his body, and especially his face. All of the sudden, he found it hard to form any words.

“...y-you… you saw-...”

Humiliation. Mortification. Embarrassment. Pure _embarrassment_. But Connor kept it cool. He tried to keep his face straight and undisturbed, only realising that he was failing miserably as he watched Kara look at him with such _pitiful_ eyes.

“You care about him a lot, don’t you?” Kara added, “Lieutenant Anderson?”

“I-I, um… yeah…” Connor managed to say, in a quiet and bashful tone. Looking at Kara in the eye was a difficult thing to do all of the sudden.

“I hope everything works out for you guys,” she inquired, smiling brightly again, “you both deserve each other.”

That last phrase hit Connor hard. It could not be farther from the truth. He didn’t deserve Hank, and Hank didn’t deserve him. Hank deserved _so_ much more. He deserved someone better—someone who could finally repair his jaded yet gentle soul. And Connor…Connor was just selfish.

All of this, everything that the android has done so far, it was all because he just wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t a piece of shit—that he was worth _something_. Anything.

Redemption. Who was he really doing it for? For Hank? Or for himself?

The thought stayed with Connor until he left the station.

 

* * *

 

It was nine pm when they returned back to Hank’s house.

The silence remained uninterrupted throughout their drive back home. The events in Carrick’s mansion were still pretty fresh in both of their minds, and they let that unspoken conversation haunt the air between them.

Once in a while though, Connor would sneak small side glances at the older man in the car. Just to make sure he was still in a good state to drive. But they arrived home safe and sound anyway; they even saw Sumo in one of the windows barking at their arrival.

Everything was a little less tense once they were inside, both mildly distracted by the dog charging at both at them. Connor knelt down at greeted Sumo with open arms, the dog happily licking his face as Hank moved to the side to remove his winter coat.

He did little to acknowledge the dog— just a small pat on the head and a small scratch on the back— but after that, he just walked past Sumo.

Something was obviously bothering him, but Connor restrained the urge to badger him about it. It just…it felt too dangerous.

Instead of doing anything, the android just watched the older man walk into the kitchen and open up his liquor cabinet, only to realise that it was empty. Right. Connor had cleaned it out, and Hank hasn’t been buying any for the past few weeks. So of course there was nothing there.

“Oh, give me a fucking break…” he heard Hank mutter angrily as he closed the cupboard. He lingered in the kitchen for a few minutes looking a little lost in thought. The older man paced around the table for a bit, looking really frustrated, looking for something to do.

Connor, on the other hand, stood far by the front door as he shrugged off his CyberLife jacket and hung it up by Hank’s coat. He loosened up his tie too, hanging it by the same hook he hung his jacket.

When the android toed off his shoes by the door, he heard a lighter flicker in the kitchen. Hank had lit up a cigarette inside the house. And as someone who was clearly inexperienced in smoking, he immediately sucked a big breath through the stub, which sent him coughing up unhealthily afterwards.

The sight hurt Connor a little too much.

“You shouldn’t do that, Hank…” he said. He didn’t even know why it bothered him so much, but he just didn’t want Hank to smoke.

Hank stopped and stared at Connor with his eyes narrowed, his cigarette still in between his fingers. They both just stared at each other, and let that tension boil between them. It was thick. It sent a cold chill down Connor’s mechanical spine.

With a flick of a finger and an exasperated sigh, Hank discarded the stub in the sink. “Fuck it. I’m going to bed.”

It surprised Connor more than it should have. For a few minutes there, he was left in the living room as Hank retreated to the bedroom.

Hank actually…listened? No exceptions? No buts? No _‘fuck you, don’t tell me what to do’_?

It sent a warm feeling in the android’s stomach, but it also made his chest ache. Just the thought of Hank listening to him made him feel…weird. Feeling a little hot as his internal temperature rose, Connor undid a few buttons at the top of his dress shirt.

In slow steps, he followed Hank into the bedroom.

The older man was in the middle of changing out of his pants when Connor entered the room. The lamp beside the bed was on, and Hank had already discarded his tacky button up shirt for a more comfy, cotton shirt. Now, he was struggling to unfasten his belt.

Hank turned his head to acknowledge Connor entering and closing the door behind him, but almost immediately, he went back to the task at hand and ignored the android’s presence.

But Connor didn’t want to be ignored. He wanted to see Hank.

There was a sudden urge in his system that told him to touch Hank. Feel Hank.

Carefully, he approached the older man and stood in front of him until his face was a hair width away from Hank’s.

Hank paused in surprise of the android’s proximity.

Without breaking eye contact, Connor slowly lifted his hands up to rest on Hank’s fingers on his belt and pushed them aside. He undid Hank’s belt for him, eyes still staring innocently at the older man.

Hank let out a hot breath, his eyes half-lidded in a haze of desire, but Connor didn’t stop there. When he pulled his belt off and let it drop on the floor, he continued. The android went up, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants for him, still not breaking eye contact.

The confidence, it came out so suddenly. Connor would have never had the guts to do this before, but every little twitch, every suck of air that Hank inhales and every huff he made drove Connor absolutely crazy. Thirium was heavily pumping down his crotch area, and all of the sudden, he wanted to touch Hank again.

Touch him. Make him feel good. Wipe away that crease in between his brows. Ease his tense muscles.

Connor shoved Hank’s pants down and let it drop on his feet, revealing his boxers. Hank let out an uneven breath as he stepped away from his pants pooling around his ankles. His eyebrows were still drawn together as he stared at Connor, both in awe and in confusion.

With both hands on his chest, the android backed Hank into the bed. Along the way, Connor finally slotted their bodies and lips together. Hank moaned at the contact, his arms immediately coming up to wrap around the android’s torso as he melted into Connor’s lips. So soft and so luscious.

When his knees hit the edge of the bed, Hank sat on the mattress, briefly breaking their kiss. But Connor chased him. He straddled the older man, knees pinning Hank into the bed, and grinded their hips together as he stuck his tongue inside of his mouth, releasing a groan when he felt the older man’s tongue reciprocate.

His temperature was heating up again and it was dangerous, but Connor didn’t care. Shocks of electricity were instantly traveling up and down his spine faster than before, and he loved it. Fuck, was it addicting.

Connor moaned and whimpered when he felt Hank rock their hips together harder, his hands gripping Connor’s hips and holding him down as he grinded upwards. The hard outline of Hank’s cock was rubbing between Connor’s clothed ass, his trousers constricting the contact. Suddenly, a hand came up to tug at the android’s hair, making him pull away from the kiss as Hank trailed his lips down to suck on his neck.

“Shit…H-Hank…” Connor choked out as it trailed off into a small moan. He rocked his hips harder, continually pressing against the outline of Hank’s cock, “it’s so good…fuck, it’s so good…”

The android’s head started to spin. Bit by bit, he was losing control of his program, but he didn’t care. Hank’s cock, Hank’s lips—they were all _so_ good, he couldn’t get enough of them.

Feeling his system slowly spiral out of control, he grabbed a handful of Hank’s long grey hair and pulled the older man’s lips off of his neck. He held Hank’s face in his hands for a moment and stared at him; his lips were parted, red and incredibly wet, and his eyes were blown wide with want and hunger, the sight alone made Connor groan.

Connor could never remember how he did it, but in one second, he quickly slid off from Hank’s lap and forced the older man's legs apart as he dropped down to the floor between them. Hank audibly sucked in a huge breath, and his heart rate sped up at an alarming rate as he watched the android drop down to his knees in between his legs.

It was all in the heat of the moment. Connor just _craved_ as he mouthed Hank’s cock through his cotton boxers, feeling a patch of precum seeping through the material already.

With careful and deft hands, the android pulled Hank’s underwear off and threw it at the corner of the room. He caught sight of the tattoo on his thigh again, a little old and a little faded at the edges, but beautifully intricate none the less. Connor couldn’t help but kiss it, and pecked every little inch of it on Hank’s skin. The older man simply hummed at the sight.

His cock was huge, really stiff and wet at the tip. It was angry red, leaking, and it twitched every time Connor came close to it. He was kissing the crease where Hank’s pelvis met his thigh, and he nosed the dark grey pubes that nestled on the older man’s crotch. His musk invaded Connor’s nose and the android savoured it.

Carefully, he wrapped a hand around the base of Hank’s shaft and he studied Hank’s cock up close. It was nice and evenly proportion, although a bit girthier than an average penis. As a start, he let his hand slowly pump the length up and down as he stuck out his tongue and licked at the base of the head.

Above him, Hank let out a hot breath and bit his lip to prevent any embarrassing noises from his mouth. But Connor wanted to hear them; he wanted to hear all of his noises.

With another hand bracing on Hank’s hip bone, Connor closed his mouth around the tip and sucked, his tongue poked and slid around the slit—precum rubbing on his tongue.

“Fuck! O-Oh…” Hank breathed out. Yes, that’s what Connor wanted. More noise.

Slowly, he sunk Hank’s shaft deeper into his mouth, his tongue continuously rubbing around and feeling the soft, velvety texture of Hank’s cock. His eyes suddenly flicked upward, curious at what Hank looked like.

The older man was completely flushed, his lips were incredibly bitten raw red and his hair was pushed aside and even combed backwards to reveal more of his handsome face. Connor moaned around his cock. God, just seeing him all red and flustered made Connor’s inside incredibly hot. The circuits and the wires in his systems were spontaneously popping off some extra electrical currents that contributed to the humming that currently invaded his spine.

Hank was such a sight to behold.

As if he heard him, Hank suddenly looked down and locked eyes with the android. He groaned at the sight.

“Shit…Connor, you’re…” the older man panted, unable to finish his sentence as the android hummed in acknowledgement, punching all the air out of Hank again.

The android felt a hand come up to grab the back of his head, and he closed his eyes in pleasure the moment Hank’s fingers touched his hair. He moaned around Hank’s cock in approval and slowly, he sunk the length in until it finally hit the back of his throat. Android didn’t have gag reflexes, so Connor enjoyed the feeling of Hank’s cock resting heavily on his tongue.

“Oh fuck!” the older man above him hissed.

He wanted to pull the android off of his dick, afraid that he might actually suffocate him, but then Connor moved _for_ him. He slowly bobbed his mouth on Hank’s cock, steadily picking up some speed before he set a pace and let the older man’s length fuck his hot, tight, wet mouth. His own erection in his pants remained aching and unattended.

“Oh my god, Connor…fuck…” Hank continuously panted as he steadily face fucked him. He was face fucking him, and Connor was just taking it. Without any difficulty. In fact, it seemed like he loved it. Being face fucked. By Hank’s dick. It was fucking unbelievable.

It didn’t take long for Hank to come, with the incredibly enthusiastic face fucking and all the humming that Connor did around Hank’s cock, he came pretty fast.

With a grunt as a warning, Connor felt the hot spurts of Hank’s load in his throat and he swallowed most of it before Hank forcefully pulled himself out of Connor’s mouth, some of the white spurts landing on the android’s lips and shirt.

Connor licked his lips and chased the taste of the older man. His systems were so fried, he couldn’t even believe he still had the ability to function. Warning pop ups have invaded his sight and they all flashed angrily at him as he closed them. His cock was still heavy and leaking in his pants, and the feeling almost hurt.

Like the mind reader that he was, Hank’s arms suddenly came down to pull on the android’s torso. Carefully, he lifted Connor up from the floor and let his legs straddle his lap once again, but a hand was deliciously palming his crotch.

“It’s okay, I got you…” Hank breathed as he continued to palm Connor’s bulge. The android, on the other hand, threw his head back and openly moaned at the feeling.

Quickly, Hank unzipped Connor’s trousers and pulled his hard and leaking cock from his underwear. He gripped his length and stroked him, hard, fast and dirty, making Connor choke on his moan.

“Oh! Oh…Hank…shit…”

“I got you. I got you, don’t worry…”

Like a mantra, Connor chanted Hank’s name under his breath with his eyes shut tightly. He came not long after that, very fast and very messy all over Hank’s hand. The older man continued to pump the remaining cum from Connor’s artificial cock, working him through and milking him until the last drop.

With the last bits of remaining strength, Hank held Connor in his arms and laid them both in bed as they caught their breaths together.

They didn’t say anything as they panted, the older man just let his arms remain wrapped around the android until they felt tired, and the need for sleep invaded their bodies. It didn’t take long, Connor’s systems were audibly wiring down and Hank’s eyes were starting to shut.

Until a small voice came up.

“Hank?” Connor called out, his voice soft.

“Hmm?”

“Do you…do you ‘wanna talk about what happened today?”

Hank remained silent, his eyes completely shut.

“Just…let me rest for a bit, alright? Now… now’s not the time…”

With that, Connor went into stasis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kara: I saw you two fuck  
> Connor:...  
> Kara:...  
> Connor:...  
> Kara: :)
> 
> (also Alice is *somewhat* okay yay)


End file.
